


Bittersweet and Strange

by cherrymilktea (halfmast)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfmast/pseuds/cherrymilktea
Summary: “What about a mini truce then?” He offered.“No,” Baz said darkly.Simon breathed out a soft laugh, closing his eyes. “Just think about it then.”-Proper breakfasts, the Wavering Wood, coffee shops, and more emergencies than one summer should hold. Simon and Baz bumble through a mini-truce and into something not enemy-like at all.





	1. Part I : Watford

**Author's Note:**

> This will be five or six chapters of Simon and Baz muddling through somehow, with guest appearances by many, but mainly from Penny and Fiona. 
> 
> This self-indulgent fluff is set primarily in the summer between Sixth and Seventh Year (before "Carry On" starts). It's AU from the end of Year Six.

**SIMON**

It didn't even hurt when it happened. 

  
  
  


He almost made it all the way back to Watford before he realized that he couldn't quite catch his breath. Simon stopped, bowing his head for a moment, and beside him, Penny stopped too. 

  
  
  


"Come on," she urged, glancing towards the gate, "We have like four minutes before the drawbridge locks. We have to tell the Mage. This is getting ridiculous, we weren't even that far out!" She huffed. 

  
  
  


"Yeah, yeah," he breathed, "I just - " he pressed a hand to his side, where it felt like a cramp every time he tried to take a deep breath, "I - " and it felt warm there, wet. "Penny...?" he said more quietly, looking down at his hand. 

  
  
  


It was smeared with red. 

  
  
  


"Oh." She said and she sounded far away all of a sudden. 

  
  
  


Her hands were on his arm then, tugging him forward, sliding around him, "We have to get back  _ now _ , Simon. Come on.  _ Simon _ . Come  _ on! _ " 

  
  
  


Her voice was getting higher, sharper. 

  
  
  


He frowned. "Okay," he muttered, settling his arm around her shoulders when he stumbled. "I don't know why - " the thought skittered away; his feet felt heavy, his tongue too thick in his mouth. 

  
  
  


Blood. That was blood on his hand. He was bleeding. 

  
  
  


They made it a few feet past the gate, just before it started rising into place, when Simon found himself frowning more deeply, because he couldn't - "Penny...?" He breathed, panting, because everything felt too heavy all of a sudden. 

  
  
  


And the sky was getting kind of dim. 

  
  
  


The last thought he had before everything went dark around him was to wonder why Penny screaming like that?

  
  
  


-

-

-

  
  
  


Penny was pacing when he woke up.

  
  
  


"How could you not notice?" She demanded when he mentioned that he just hadn't noticed when the goblin had sliced his side with a blade. 

  
  
  


"You have fourteen stitches!" She exclaimed. "It was enchanted! Healing spells bounce off of it!"

  
  
  


"I was busy," he tried. "It didn't even hurt. It doesn't even hurt now..." he said, looking down at his bandaged side, prodding at it curiously. 

  
  
  


"Don't poke it!" She snapped, sitting down on the bed next to him with more care than usual, "Did you hear me? The metal was enchanted. We've only been able to heal the wound with magic a little bit." She frowned. "It doesn't hurt because you're on painkillers," she said flatly, staring at him. She stared at him until he very deliberately leaned back into the pillows and set his hand away from his side. 

  
  
  


Then she said, "You lost a lot of blood," in a tone that was half accusatory, half worried.

  
  
  


He wasn't sure what to do with that tone, with that information. "Uh... okay?" 

  
  
  


"You passed out." 

  
  
  


"Right..." He'd figured out that much. 

  
  
  


"In full view of the football pitch." 

  
  
  


He blinked. "Oh." 

  
  
  


"People thought you were dead." 

  
  
  


Something about the way she said  _ people _ made Simon's chest clench, his gaze met hers, held. He touched her hand where it was lying on the mattress next to his leg. "I'm not dead though." 

  
  
  


Penny blew out a breath. "Obviously," she huffed and then leaned forward and hugged him. "You have to be more careful, Simon," she warned him, tucking her face against his shoulder.

  
  
  


"I'm careful." 

  
  
  


She pulled back. "You're not." 

  
  
  


"Yes I am." 

  
  
  


She rolled her eyes, motioning around them. "Fourteen stitches." 

  
  
  


He shrugged, smiling. "Less than fifteen." 

  
  
  


And she rolled her eyes again. 

  
  
  


Twice in a row. It made Simon smile a little more. "I feel fine now," he added. 

  
  
  


"Well, good..." she said and proceeded to tell him how Dr. Wellbelove had been there, how he'd gotten IV fluids and medicine and how he'd slept the entire evening and through the night and it was now almost two o'clock PM. That was almost twenty four hours of sleep.

  
  
  


He blinked. "I missed breakfast…?" 

  
  
  


And Penny sighed, giving him his third eye roll in a row. 

  
  
  


"You should be okay in a couple more days," she continued, "The stitches'll dissolve on their own. Just make sure to keep it dry and clean and take the antibiotics, okay?" 

  
  
  


It took Simon a second to remember why she said it like, like she wasn't going to be around to remind him twice a day. 

  
  
  


Because she wasn't. 

  
  
  


The school year ended this week; and if he had slept almost a whole day then - "You're leaving?" He asked and hated how it sounded small, just a little bit betrayed. He flushed and tried to cover. "Right. Yeah," he said quickly, nodding his head, "Of course. It's - classes are over." They would have ended today. 

  
  
  


He'd missed his last day of sixth year.

  
  
  


Penny leaned back a bit. "In the morning," she said, nodding slowly, watching him. "Unless... if you don't want me to, I can stay a couple more days. I'll ask my Mom to come back and get me at the end of the week." 

  
  
  


Penny always left right when classes ended and her Mom finished term. Students were technically allowed to stay at Watford for five days after classes ended, but most didn't; eager to get on with summer break - Simon always stayed until the very end. 

  
  
  


He took a breath. "No, it's okay," he shook his head, "I feel fine. I just - I forgot. About it. For a minute. That classes were over. That it's summer." 

  
  
  


Summer break. 

  
  
  


"Is the Mage here?" He asked. 

  
  
  


Penny sighed, but there was no rolling of her eyes this time. "No," she said, almost gently. He must have really scared her. "He wasn't here the other day either. When you got hurt. They uh they called him. Left messages." 

  
  
  


Simon nodded. "He's probably busy. Maybe it's even connected to the goblin attack." 

  
  
  


She was quiet for a moment. Then she agreed carefully, "Maybe." 

  
  
  


Simon nodded again, more firmly. "So. Since I'm okay now. I can go back to my room?" He asked, glancing around the empty infirmary. "I'm hungry."

  
  
  


And Penny smiled at that; eyeroll number four. "Yeah... here," she stood and went over to the side table. "I got you fresh clothes this morning while Baz was out." 

  
  
  


Baz.

  
  
  


"He didn't see you, right?" 

  
  
  


"He never sees me, Simon," Penny said with long-suffering patience. "Here. Go change and be careful with the stitches, don't move around too much, okay? It doesn't hurt because of the painkillers, but you don't want to overdo it... then we'll go down to dinner," she finished.

  
  
  


And Simon nodded along and did as Penny said - that usually worked out best for him. 

  
  
  


-

-

-

  
  
  


Dinner had been wonderful. The last full one he would have at Watford for this school year. Almost everyone would leave in the morning. And then the kitchens would be stocked for a few more days before officially closing down in a week. 

  
  
  


He had eaten three plates of roast beef and mashed potatoes with carrots and green beans and even four biscuits; and best of all, he had brought a bundle of biscuits and honey up to his room with him. He was staring at it hungrily, telling himself to wait until a little later, when Baz walked in. 

  
  
  


"Oh," he said flatly, eyeing him critically from top to bottom, "You're not dead." 

  
  
  


Simon forgot the food - immediately and helplessly angry. "Oh  _ sorry _ ," he snapped. 

  
  
  


"I thought maybe I'd been saved the trouble," Baz drawled.

  
  
  


And Simon scowled. "What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you have fucked off to your gothic castle or whatever by now?"

  
  
  


Baz arched an eyebrow. "I didn't realize you were so attuned to my itinerary, Snow. Should I have it printed and delivered to you each morning at breakfast? Or will it just end up in your mouth during your daily devastation of scones?" 

  
  
  


"What? No - that's - of course I know when you - " the words fell out of order from Simon's mouth and he scowled more deeply, "We've lived together," he almost shouted, "For six years." 

  
  
  


"Pleased to see your time at Watford has taught you to count that high," Baz noted with condescension dripping from every syllable. He took a seat on his bed, stretching his legs out and reaching over to his nightstand for a book. 

  
  
  


And Simon glared at him; thoughts tumbling over each other in a haze of bright, hot anger.

  
  
  


"Can't say the same about controlling yourself though, can we?" Baz continued, pointedly sniffing at the air, "Breathe, Snow. Before you set fire to my books." 

  
  
  


"Merlin you're the worst," Simon huffed, breathing out harshly and trying to reign his magic in. It was seeping out of him, in a slow, steady curl of smoke and heat. It almost always did when he talked with Baz. "All I did was ask why you're still here. You usually leave right when classes end," he grit out, dropping down on his bed. The movement was too rough and he winced a little, covered it quickly by adding, "You don't have to be such a wanker about it." 

  
  
  


"I don't owe you explanations, Snow," Baz sneered and turned around to stare at him with those sharp, grey eyes. "What are  _ you _ doing here? Weren't you recently gutted? An infirmary seems more suited."

  
  
  


Simon stretched out slowly, carefully on his bed. "Oh so I owe  _ you _ explanations?" He retorted and couldn't stop a little smile from playing around his lips at the retort. 

  
  
  


"If you're going to drop dead in my vicinity, then yes." 

  
  
  


He looked over to glare at Baz, "I'm not going to drop dead. There was no point in me being there - I'm all stitched up. I'd rather be in my own room." While he still could. "All I have to do is not tear the stitches." 

  
  
  


Simon waited for Baz to reply to that, but there was nothing but the sound of turning pages from the other side of the room. He looked over at him for a moment, all stretched out and leaning back against the wall, a book in one hand and the other poised to keep turning pages. He kept expecting Baz to snap at him for it, for staring, but he didn't seem to care or maybe he didn't notice. 

  
  
  


Baz was part of Watford, part of Mummers House, so Simon studied him for a moment longer. Memorized him. Because the summer was about to start and he could always use a new memory to not think about. 

  
  
  


The silence stretched except for that soft rustling and Simon looked away. He was kind of tired anyway; even though he'd slept for so long. He was in his own bed now, in his quiet room, and who knew the sound of rustling pages could be so soothing? 

  
  
  


He almost didn't register it when Baz spoke, the sound not quite startling him and not quite rousing him either. 

  
  
  


"How many?" 

  
  
  


Simon's brows furrowed, he blinked slowly. "What?" He mumbled, turning his head so his cheek was pressed against the pillow. 

  
  
  


"Stitches. How many?" 

  
  
  


Oh. "Fourteen." 

  
  
  


"One would think you would know enough to move out of the way of a goblin blade." 

  
  
  


"Yeah," Simon sighed, letting his eyes slip shut, "Penny was there," he offered, tried to explain how he had to make sure she was okay, she was covered, and maybe he had lost his focus a little bit. But it was okay. "Fourteen's less than fifteen," he mumbled. 

  
  
  


-

-

-

  
  
  


Simon didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he woke up. Well, until something shaking him woke him up what felt like a minute later. 

It was more than a minute later though, he could tell by how difficult it was to open his eyes. He blinked slowly, brows drawing together as the figure sitting next to him on the bed came into focus, "Penny, what…?" he mumbled. His gaze slipping away from her face and around the room. The curtains were pulled back and sunlight was streaming in. Baz wasn't on his bed reading anymore; Baz's bed was neatly made up. 

"It's morning," Penny said wryly. "You slept in your clothes." 

"Oh." He said. His mouth felt cottony; he felt heavy, not all there, thoughts half-formed and sliding away before he could even register them. The room was quiet as he sat up. 

Baz was gone. 

It was morning. 

"I think I'm going to stay until the end of the week," Penny said abruptly. 

And she looked  _ worried _ .

"What?" He frowned. "No. Don't do that. I'm fine. Really." 

"You missed breakfast again." 

"Oh." He said for the second time; and his disappointment felt like a physical weight all of a sudden. He had missed the last day of Watford breakfast. The last  _ two  _ days. 

"Simon." Penny sighed. She motioned to his bedside table and when he looked - there was a small plate, piled high with scones. A stack of butter beside it. 

The weight dissipated immediately and he brightened, grinning. "You are the best. The  _ best _ ," he said emphatically, reaching over and bringing the plate over to his bed. Who cared about crumbs when there were sour cherry scones? "You don't have to stay," he said around a mouthful, "I'm good. Really."

Penny eyed him suspiciously. "Did you take your pill before you went to sleep last night?" 

"Uh - "

"Simon," she chided, getting up, "Where is it?" 

"Um - " He swallowed the scone. "Over there," he waved vaguely towards his desk. His gaze spotting the bundle of second dinner he had brought up last night. He'd fallen asleep before eating it. 

"It's important that you take these," Penny said, finding the bottle and shaking one out. "Two a day for the next two weeks. You can't forget." 

"I won't." 

"You already did," she pointed out. 

"I fell asleep, I was knackered and - " relaxed, he realized. "It's not gonna keep happening." He held up a hand, "Promise." Care homes weren't exactly relaxing.

She rolled her eyes and handed him the pill, followed by a bottle of water. 

He dutifully took it, pointedly washing it down with a big gulp from the bottle. 

"Let me see it…" she said then, pulling at his shirt. 

And he stuffed half a scone in his mouth before lifting his shirt up as requested. "See," he said around the scone, peeling back the edges of the bandage a little,"S'fine." 

Penny peered at it, frowning, and then her fingers were prodding at it gently. "Does that hurt?" 

"Little bit, just… achy," he shifted away. "But not a lot." 

She nodded slowly, focused her gaze and gently touched her ring to it,  **Get Well Soon** , she said emphatically, followed it up with a fervent  **Good As New. ** And Simon felt it, the soft warmth of her magic, it made him smile again. Nothing about it felt any different though, but he said, "Thanks," to Penny, squeezed her wrist a little anyway. "I feel okay, really." 

He mostly did — and he definitely wanted her to stop looking so worried. 

She nodded, "Okay – it's just… it's weird that it won't heal with the spells." She went on to tell him that Dr. Wellbelove had tried several before resorting to more traditional medicine when the wound just hadn't reacted much. "It's not totally resistant to magic, but whatever they did to the metal was strong. It's too bad we didn't bring one back with us…" she mused, "They're probably all gone by now." 

"I can go out and check," he offered.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said carefully, "Not by yourself. What if there's more of them?”

Simon shrugged, eating another bite of scone, "I doubt it."

"You should stay on the grounds and rest," Penny said firmly. 

Simon shrugged again. 

"I mean it, Simon," she said warningly. "Just get as much rest as you can before you leave, okay?" 

He looked away then. He didn't like thinking about the summer, ever; but especially not in front of Penny. "Okay," he said instead. 

And then she nodded and helped him swap out that bandage for another one while he munched on scones. He stood up, rubbing at his hair, when they were finished. 

"We're leaving in - " she glanced at her watch, "A half hour."

Simon nodded. "I'll walk over with you." This was always hard. Every year. "Let me just - " he nodded to the bathroom. 

And then the door opened from the hallway and Baz walked in. 

Everyone froze. 

Slowly Baz's eyebrows lifted to his hairline. "Well," he looked at Penny sharply, taking her in, "This is interesting," he noted, closing the door behind him. 

"Don't be an arse, Basil," Penny snapped. "I'm checking on Simon."

"And how did you get in here?" 

Penny stared back at him. "You figure it out." 

"I could report you." 

Penny rolled her eyes. Fearless. "To who? Classes are over. And anyway," she held his gaze, "You won't." 

"That's bold of you to assume." 

She shrugged. "Don't you want to know how I did it?" 

His eyes narrowed and they were both silent for a beat. Before he said, "Fair enough." And crossed over to his dresser. 

He was wearing his joggers and sneakers. "Where were you?" Simon asked, frowning. 

"How is that any of your business?" 

"Classes are over, there's no practice," Simon continued, "Why are you dressed like that…" 

"Again," Baz started, "How - "

"Simon weren't you going to get ready and walk me out?" Penny interrupted. "I have to go…" 

Simon paused, then sighed, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, I'll be right back." He shot Baz a glare and then moved past him into the bathroom. When he shut the door, he leaned back against it, breathing out slowly. 

His heart was hammering in his chest, excess energy buzzing through him. What was Baz  _ doing _ here still? It didn't make sense and he  _ hated _ it when Baz didn't make sense. It meant he was up to something, plotting something. 

Simon exhaled, there was nothing he could do about it now so he put it out of his mind; he used the toilet, he brushed his teeth, he washed his face. 

And when he reached for the door handle he could hear voices beyond it. 

Penny and Baz. 

He frowned, tried to listen in for a moment, but when he heard Penny say furiously,  _ It's summer break and he just got hurt and there isn't anyone to look after him, so just cut him a break and don't - _ he pushed the door open. 

The last thing he needed was Penny, was  _ anyone _ , talking about his summer. 

Penny's mouth snapped shut when he walked into the room and Simon pretended not to notice. "You ready?" He asked, smiling. 

She nodded, "Yeah, let's go." She shot Baz a dark look before turning towards the door. 

For his part, Baz was seated at his desk, legs crossed at the ankles and looking ridiculously put-together and posh even in grass-stained joggers. His face was fixed in that stony impassive mask that always set Simon's teeth on edge. 

He was plotting something.

And Simon was leaving Watford, leaving the world of mages, for almost three months. 

-

-

-

The walk back to his room after seeing Penny felt long. He was tired and he already missed her. 

And finding that Baz was still there, in their room, at his desk, just casually making notes, felt so impossibly frustrating. 

"What are you still doing here?" He growled.

"We all have as much right to stay here as you do, Snow. Your not the only person who stays past the end of classes." 

"I know that, I just - usually - I mean the other years - you leave and then I - it's just that you're not here and I - " he got to have the room to himself. He got to say goodbye - to the bed, to the room, to the moat, to the window, to  _ everything _ ; and to be a little bit sad and it was the only time he let himself. Because once he left Watford, he couldn't think about things. 

"Spit it out," Baz snapped at him. 

And Simon just glared back. "Why are you still here?" He demanded again.

Baz narrowed his eyes. "Is your obsession with my whereabouts back? We did so well this term without you getting underfoot like a demented bloodhound." 

Simon scowled and then stomped over to his bed. It made his side twinge when he dropped down on it, but it was worth it to see the flicker of annoyance on Baz's face when the bed jostled and creaked. He didn't need the reminder of how he'd spent last year - following Baz around nonstop. He had just been  _ sure _ Baz was a vampire and that eventually he would catch him. 

He was still sure Baz was a vampire. 

It was just hard to catch him. 

And it had been hard to see him - in the catacombs. Drunk and crying and far, far too human. He had backed away without making a sound for once. Decided right then and there that he needed to take a breather - that maybe Penny was right and he was going too far, that he was bordering on obsessive, invading Baz's privacy to an unhealthy degree. 

So he stepped back and figured he would just keep an eye out for anything suspicious. 

It wasn't his fault that  _ everything _ Baz Grimm-Pitch did was suspicious. 

Like right now. He had gone back to his notebook, one elbow leaning on the desk as he wrote, the other arm curled lightly across his lap. He looked relaxed and calm and  _ definitely _ like he was plotting something. 

"Are you trying to melt my skin off from across the room, Snow?" He snapped. 

And Simon blinked; realized abruptly there was a haze of heat coming off of him. He flushed. 

"Whatever," he hissed. "Least you deserve," he mumbled. 

"For  _ what _ , exactly?" 

"Plotting whatever you're plotting!" Simon exclaimed. 

"Fuck off, Snow." Baz snapped at him. And he looked truly put out for a moment. "I'm leaving at the end of the week. Deal with it."

Simon blew out an explosive breath. "Why?" 

"Because I feel like it," he retorted. "Once again, I don't owe you any explanations." 

"But you never stay this long," Simon complained. 

Baz shifted on his chair and looked over at him with stormy grey eyes. "What is your bloody fixation with this?" 

"It's just - "

"Just  _ what? _ "

"I'm usually alone for a few days." 

"And what?" He snapped, "Do you use the time to jerk off or something?" 

Simon glared, a flush creeping up his neck. " _ No _ ," he said darkly. "I need the time to detox from you!"

"Well too bad," Baz snapped, turning back around in his chair. 

Simon had the childish urge to throw something at the back of his head. Instead he just held still and counted his breaths in the quiet room. It helped to calm him down as long as Baz didn't  _ say  _ anything else. 

And he didn't. For a long moment, he just kept reading and making notes. Simon watched the back of his head. Baz's hair was pulled back away from his face so it wasn't in his way as he worked. Simon watched the way his gaze flicked back and forth between the book and the notebook, his long fingers curled around a pen as he wrote in his obnoxiously perfect handwriting.

"Did you kill it?" 

Simon started a little. "What?" 

"The goblin," Baz indicated, "Did you kill it?" 

"Oh… yeah," Simon said quietly. He never felt good about killing anything. "I think I killed them. There were a few." 

"That's different for goblins." 

Simon shrugged. "I guess." 

"They were using enchanted daggers," Baz continued. 

And Simon's eyes narrowed. "Who told you that?" 

"Everyone was talking about it. Bunce was throwing healing spells at you outside in front of everyone and none of them were working." 

"Oh," Simon said, deflating a little. "I didn't know that." 

"Because they  _ weren't working _ ," Baz repeated with that shade of condescension that made Simon want to punch him. 

"I mean that she didn't tell me." He said tightly. 

Baz lifted one eyebrow slightly. "I'm sure she was just eager to get away from you."

And Simon stiffened at that. "That's not - she said that - I just didn't realize - "

"Amazing how quickly you start malfunctioning," Baz cut in with a sneer. 

"Can you just shut  _ up,"  _ Simon snapped angrily. "You complain about - about the smoke or whatever, but then you - you just make me want to - " 

Baz stared at him. "It's my responsibility to make sure you can control your temper?" 

The growl that slipped past his lips surprised even him and he was standing, hands clenched at his sides, before he even registered the thought to move. 

"Control yourself, Snow," Baz sneered again, completely unmoved by the sudden motion. "You'll choke yourself on your own smoke." 

"Why do you have to be  _ like  _ this," he snapped, "Why can't you just – "

"Bow to your every whim like the Chosen One that you are?" Baz interrupted, eyebrows arching pointedly. 

"Be  _ human,"  _ Simon retorted, "I guess it's because you're  _ not."  _

"Back to that, are we?" Baz said and somehow,  _ somehow,  _ he managed to sound bored. "How original."

Simon could feel the edges of his vision going up in smoke. If he didn't get away right now, he was going to do something he would regret. He  _ couldn't  _ get kicked out of Watford for attacking his roommate. He needed Watford. 

He grit his teeth and stormed out of the room, slamming the door hard behind himself. 

He'd rather deal with another Goblin attack than spend another second with Baz Pitch.

-

-

-

He stormed around the grounds until he could breathe without smelling smoke. Then clenched his jaw and went back to where the attack had been, but just like Penny had said there was nothing there. 

Eventually he found his way over to Ebb's and he sat with her, watching the goats until well after the sun had set. 

He wasn't even hungry when he started making his way back to Mummer's house. The anger had sapped him of it. It had sapped him of energy and appetite and all that was left was residual ripples of embarrassment that coursed through him. It hit close to home - the idea that Penny would be sick of him by the end of the school year. She probably had plenty of reason to be — 

He didn't like to think about things like that. 

By the time he made it back to his room, Baz had already turned the lights out and tucked himself into bed. 

Simon sighed quietly, rubbing at his face. He made his way over to his bed and just sat down. Everything was quiet, the window was closed. If he listened closely enough, he could hear Baz's slow, even breathing. 

He should brush his teeth, change his clothes. Instead he just kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. 

When he next opened eyes, the Mage was standing there. 

Simon blinked, disoriented. "Sir…?" 

"It's time, Simon. Come with me." 

"Time… for what?" Simon asked, sitting up slowly. He felt heavy, still tired. "What's it time for…?" 

"Come with me," the Mage said again, his voice remote, his eyes dark on Simon's face, "We need to get out of here. It's coming. This is our chance." 

He glanced over towards Baz's bed, but it was so dark. All he could see were shadows and the Mage's face. "Our chance…?"

"To be free of the Old Families." 

Simon swallowed hard. He felt hot. "I don't understand…" he admitted, "I'm sorry, Sir. I don't – "

The Mage stepped closer. He crouched beside Simon's bed. "The humdrum, Simon. It's coming..." 

"The humdrum?" Simon echoed, alarm slamming through him, his breath coming faster, "It's coming here? To Watford?" 

"And the Old Families." 

"What?" 

"Are coming here." The Mage's hand curled around Simon's wrist, "So we need to go. You can't stay here."

"Sir, but Watford…" 

"It'll take all the magic, Simon. You can't stay here." 

"I can't just leave. What about - everyone else? What about Ebb? And - and Baz is still here…" 

"I'm not asking you, Simon. We're leaving."

"But I'm meant to fight the Humdrum, Sir." He tried to pull away, but the Mage's hand felt like an iron band around him, pulling at him. 

"And fight him you will, after." 

"It's coming now. I have to do it now," Simon insisted, his breaths coming fast. 

And when he struggled harder, fury flashed over the Mage's face. "I brought you here, boy. I can take you away whenever I want. It's for your safety." 

"But - "

"You will obey me. Simon." 

"Sir, please - "

"- Simon." 

He tried to pull free again, but the Mage was looming closer, his face twisted in anger. 

He felt like he was shaking. "I want to save them," he tried, "I'm meant to - " 

" _ Simon."  _

"You're meant to do as I say." The Mage's grip seemed to tighten and the darkness seemed to deepen. 

Simon felt raw, broken open. He was meant to save them. "Please, Sir. Please. I can't leave -  _ please."  _

" _ Snow!"  _

The Mage never called him Snow. 

Everything spun at that realization; the Mage's face melted away and he found himself blinking his eyes open again. 

It was dark and there were hands on his arms, but they weren't the Mage's. He was panting, he couldn't catch his breath, and everything was so  _ hot.  _

"Get a grip, Snow. You're going to set the bed on fire."

Baz. 

"Baz," he breathed. "I - " He didn't understand what - "Where is he? Where did - where did he go?" 

"Who?" 

"The Mage? I don't want to… go." He blinked and his eyes were wet suddenly. "Please. Don't - not yet… please." 

Baz didn't say anything, just stared at him. 

And Simon shuddered. "M'sorry," he mumbled, eyes slipping shut, "Please - m’sorry - ”

"Aleister Crowley Snow, shut up," Baz said, but there was no snap to his voice, "It was a dream,” and Baz shook him a little. 

Simon realized sluggishly that it was Baz's hands on his arms and that it was Baz shaking him. He wanted to shrug him off, resist. But he felt pliable under Baz's hands, loose. "You were dreaming," Baz continued, "The Mage isn't here." 

Simon blinked slowly, peering up at him in the darkness, still breathing hard. "The Mage - " he swallowed, "He's not…?" He asked very quietly, still disoriented. 

"No," Baz said flatly. "Just you and me and the literal sparks you were setting off into the air." 

"Oh." 

"Are you done almost immolating us both?" 

And Simon wanted to respond, but he couldn't - he wasn't following. "The Mage isn't… here?" He asked again. 

There was another beat of silence and then Baz's hand was on his face, touching his forehead. "Is your brain actually boiling?" 

Simon closed his eyes again and leaned into the coolness of Baz's hand. Maybe? He thought. "S'hot," he mumbled. "Always hot." 

"Not like this, not this hot." Baz's words were soft.

The hands moved away and Simon made a sound low in his throat, it was so  _ hot.  _ "Please," he mumbled and he wasn't sure why he said it, what he was asking for; the room was spinning and hot and the Mage wasn't here. He'd been so sure. "Are you sure?" He asked.

But there was no response, Baz wasn't there anymore; and Simon shifted on the bed, curling up on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. It was dark and he was so hot. 

He wanted the window to be open. The room smelled of his magic and smoke and — 

"Bloody hell, Snow.  _ Don't  _ open the window." 

Baz's voice startled him. He jolted on the bed, felt sick all of a sudden.  _ So  _ hot. "Hot," he mumbled and heard the click of the window being shut.

"You have a fever." 

A soft glow lit the room then and the bed dipped. Baz was sitting on his bed. "Did you take the medication today?" 

Simon blinked, his gaze on the soft, hazy light. It must be a spell, he thought. Baz was so good at the day-to-day spells. At all spells, really.

"Did you drink any water?" 

He swallowed thickly. Confused. "Am I – is this still a dream?" 

"How are still alive?" Baz asked, but again there wasn't a snap to his voice. It was just quiet, almost hushed. He stood from the bed, but this time Simon didn't move.

He waited.

And he watched, his eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness, as Baz moved around on his side of the room. He found the pills Simon had left on his desk and he found a bottle of water and he brought it back. 

"Sit up," he said brusquely. 

It didn't make sense. This wasn't making sense. "Baz…" 

"You're going to spill water on yourself if you don't." 

_ That _ made sense, Simon thought, and slowly pushed himself up in the bed. He felt shaky, shivery, and when Baz dropped a pill into his hand, it didn't even occur to him that maybe he shouldn't be unquestioningly popping something his  _ enemy  _ gave him into his mouth. He washed it down with the water Baz handed him. 

"What are you doing?" He asked when Baz took the bottle back and set it on Simon's nightstand.

"Poisoning you," he replied flatly, "You should feel the effects shortly." 

"No you're not," Simon said after a beat of silence in which let himself sink back down into his pillow. 

"How would you know? You're already half-dead." 

"I'm okay. I feel okay," he said automatically.    
  


"You're delusional." 

And Simon didn't know what to say – he wasn't sure that he  _ wasn't _ delusional. It seemed like Baz was… helping him. That couldn't be real, could it? 

Something touched his face again, wet and cold.

He startled, realized his eyes has slipped shut when they flew open. 

"It's a wash cloth," Baz said, "Keep it there." 

"Why are you - " he cleared his throat a little when his voice cracked, "You're helping me?" 

"If you die in this room who's to say the Anathema won't expel me?" 

Simon's brows furrowed together. "I'm not dying." 

"You were literally crying and thrashing about and setting off  _ sparks of fire  _ in your sleep." 

"But I – I'm just – I had a bad dream," Simon explained. 

"Likely because of the bad fever," Baz pointed out. 

"Oh," Simon murmured. "Do I have a fever?" 

Baz stared at him in response. Then shook his head a little, "Just be quiet and go back to sleep," he said evenly. 

Simon licked his lips a little. "What are you – what will you do? Now?" 

"Sit here and watch you sleep, of course." 

Simon opened his mouth and then shut it, eyes widening a bit.

Baz rolled his eyes. "Relax, Snow. I'm going to read until I get tired enough to fall asleep. Hopefully you won't wake me up with the threat of a fiery death again." 

That was a real answer; nothing snide or mean about it. Simon's brows drew together, everything felt off-kilter. "You're not – am I… dreaming still?" 

Baz fell quiet again – that kept happening. Maybe he was tired too? 

"You're awake," he told Simon, "Don't you feel awake?" 

"I don’t know..." Simon said softly and he rubbed at his face again. Dislodging the towel. 

Baz reached for it quickly and Simon flinched instinctively. _ _

Baz went still. 

Simon cringed into the pillows. "Sorry," he breathed, embarrassed, and fumbled for the cloth with a shaky hand. 

"Let me," Baz said very carefully. His hands were careful too when they took the cloth from Simon's hand, when they put it back against his skin. "Go to sleep if you're tired," Baz said to him and it didn't sound quite as condescending as it usually would. 

The towel was still cold; and it soothed him. He wondered idly if Baz had spelled it to stay cold. 

He closed his eyes, sighing a little. "I wouldn't… do it, you know…" he mumbled. 

Silence and then: "Do what?" Baz asked. 

How could he? Simon thought. When he's seen the way Baz's eyes flash bright whenever he called up fire, the way his mouth curved just barely upwards at the corners when one of his spells landed, the way his hands moved when he was arguing some metaphysical point about language and the best use of it — Baz  _ loved  _ magic. 

He loved Watford. 

Even with everything terrible between them, Simon never doubted that; Baz loved magic the way Penny did, not in a power-hungry way (though there was probably some of that in there too), but in a  _ fundamental  _ way, in a  _ how-it-worked _ way, in a  _ would-you-look-at-that  _ way – and for that alone, Simon wouldn't ever do it. "Wouldn't leave you for the Humdrum," he breathed.

" _ What?"  _

"Wouldn't let it have you," he promised, "Any of you." 

" _ What _ are you babbling about, Snow?" The words were sharper than anything else Baz had said so far. 

And Simon sighed tiredly, shivered. How could he be so hot and still shivering? "Old Families. Your magic… wouldn't let it have you," he slurred, "S'my dream." 

"You were dreaming about the Mage." 

"He was there," Simon told him very quietly. 

And very slowly, Baz echoed him, "He was there.” He said it like he was pulling pieces together across a board — and maybe he was. 

The room was quiet again and Simon felt himself sinking, spinning.The glow of Baz's magic, even behind closed eyelids, was the only thing that seemed real. 

There were cool fingers pushing back the hair on his face then. "Everyone's hero, huh, Chosen One? Even ours." 

"Have to save it," Simon explained, sure all of a sudden that he was still dreaming, "World of Mages." 

There was a snort from Baz. 

He  _ must _ be dreaming. 

"That's what they keep telling us, isn't it?" Baz said ruefully, but he didn’t sound mean. 

And Simon took a shuddering breath, opened his eyes. It felt like he was looking through a funhouse lense. Baz too far and weirdly shaped, shifting closer and wider and slipping away altogether. He ignored it. "Prophecy says it." 

"Yeah I know, everyone knows." 

"I want to," he said earnestly, because sometimes he thought maybe Baz didn't believe him. Didn't believe that he really wanted to do something good and not just make the Old Families' lives harder. "Save it. For Penny. And Agatha. Even you." He tried to make him understand. "You're  _ magic _ ," he murmured and he knew he sounded awed by it. 

Because sometimes (a lot of the time) he still was – that magic  _ existed  _ and that people like Penny and Baz could just  _ do it. _

"Snow," Baz said firmly and he sounded somber all of a sudden, "So are you. You're part of the World of Mages." 

"Sure." He mumbled, the word as vague as he felt. He was just too exhausted to add more, to explain how it wasn’t the same. How Baz and Penny and Agatha had families and histories and stories that wove around Watford, around this world, around magic. 

How he didn't have that, but he would make sure that they could keep it. It was the only way he had of making sense out of being the Chosen One.

Of course it had to be someone like him to be chosen. The World of Mages couldn’t lose anyone important. 

Baz’s cold fingers were on his cheeks then and Simon realized he had closed his eyes again. 

“Look at me, Simon.”

And Simon blinked and he tried; because Baz sounded so serious, because Baz was touching his face, calling him  _ Simon.  _

He tried. 

“This is your world too. You’re a magician.  _ Merlin _ Snow, you’re  _ the  _ Magician. It’s yours too, do you understand?”

“S’okay,” he murmured, the words slurring together as he leaned his cheek into the coolness of Baz’s palm. 

Even if it wasn’t his world. It was Watford and scones with butter, Ebb and tea with the goats, Agatha and Penny and laughter and friendship, Baz and fire and sharp grey eyes. He would never leave it to the Humdrum.

-

-

-

The next time Simon opened his eyes the soft glow of Baz's magic had been replaced by a pale wash of sunlight. 

The window was still closed, but the blinds were pulled back. He shuddered a little when he sat up. Felt shaky and sleep-deprived, his mouth sticky and his eyes blurring. What had happened?

His memories were hazy and strange and he felt – thirsty. 

There was a bottle of water by his bed. It was still cool to the touch and he drank almost half of it in one long gulp. 

And it took him just that long to realize he was not alone in the room. 

Baz was sitting on his own bed, there was a teacup on his nightstand and a book on his lap. His hair was still wet, but he was fully dressed except for his shoes. He was barefoot, legs crossed at the ankles, head bowed over the book.

"Take the pill next to it." Baz said the words without looking up from his book. 

And it took Simon an embarrassingly long time to understand their meaning, to see the small white pill sitting next to where the water bottle had been. He reached for it slowly, washing it down without saying anything. 

Baz didn't say anything either; nothing snide or sarcastic. 

"Is it – " he glanced around, "What time is it?" 

"Ten forty-two," Baz answered. Still not looking up, now he turned the page. 

"Oh," Simon said wanly and then he rubbed at his face slowly. He straightened up, setting his feet on the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees. "I uh - last night…" he started, ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at it. "I don't – I'm sorry I woke you up." 

"Are you?" Baz finally looked up. "In that case, you should also apologize for almost setting me on fire."

Simon's thoughts were sluggish and hazy — but there had been something about sparks, hadn't there? Baz was flammable. "Yeah," he said quietly, "Sorry about that." 

Baz stared at him. "Go take a shower, you're disgusting." 

And for once, Simon didn't feel like arguing. He  _ felt  _ kind of disgusting. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, the ones he'd been out in the woods wearing.

"Yeah," he said again, but before getting to his feet he added, "Last night – " he started again and then stopped. 

Baz didn't cut in. He didn't say anything, just waited, those grey eyes streaked with silver today, watching him. 

"I had a lot of weird dreams," he said finally. 

"You had a fever. Might still have a low-grade one," Baz told him. 

"No yeah, I – " he rubbed at his hair again, "I kind of remember that. But I – " what was he trying to say?

"Go shower, Snow." 

Simon licked his lips and then nodded, "Yeah," he said quietly, "Okay." 

The world tilted slightly when he stood; and at the edge of his vision he saw Baz tense. Baz didn't move though and he didn't say anything.

Simon took three careful steps forward, towards the bathroom, and then he stopped, turning to face Baz. He wanted to say something about last night,  _ thank you _ , or more likely  _ what was that about _ , but Baz's head was bent over his book again and there was something so rigid about the set of his shoulders, about the fingers curled around the edges of the pages; like he was posed for a portrait of someone at ease, when that was the farthest from the truth. It stilled Simon's tongue. 

"Do you need a map on where to  _ find  _ the shower, Snow?" Baz snapped, "It's right through that door," he continued, looking up and staring at Simon with flinty grey eyes.

Simon opened his mouth, but shut it wordlessly. His heart was pounding strangely. Something muzzy and faint rising to his thoughts — 

And he turned quickly before it fully formed, long strides taking him into the bathroom; it wasn’t until he'd shut the door and leaned back against it that the thought cleared, crystalized so perfectly he could hear it. 

— Baz had called him  _ Simon _ . 

  
  


-

-

-

  
  


He couldn’t quite shake the thought. It lingered at the back of his mind, along with those faint memories of Baz getting him water and something cool for his face. 

It didn’t seem real… but it — it might have been. It mostly likely  _ had  _ been and he wasn’t sure what to do with that…

So he left it there, untouched, at the back of his mind. 

He kind of expected Baz to have left the room when he exited the bathroom with his hair wet (he had a few days still before he should cut it) and his joggers on. He’s pulled on a Watford shirt, but hadn’t bothered with shoes. 

His side didn't really hurt, just that same tender feeling from yesterday, from the day before. It was still a red, angry-looking thing though, but that was probably okay. It hadn't been that long.

Baz was still in their room though; earbuds in, his mobile out. 

And Simon stopped just inside the room. “That’s not allowed,” he blurted and then frowned at himself. He wasn't  _ trying  _ to start an argument. 

Baz gave him an unimpressed look and then pointedly removed one earbud. “Is there a problem?” 

“I knew you had a mobile,” Simon huffed, “We’re not supposed to have those here.”

"That's a ridiculous policy," Baz said simply. "Regardless, classes are over now." 

"Yeah, but you had it." 

"Prove it." 

Simon glared. He didn't know what to say to that and he really  _ didn’t  _ want to argue with Baz, so he didn't say anything. 

He sat on his bed; found that it was kind of a relief to sit. He felt oddly sore and he couldn't shake that tired feeling. It made him frown again as he took stock of himself. Did he really have a fever like Baz said? He didn't feel as hot anymore, no moreso than usual. He just felt out-of-sorts. 

He closed his eyes and knew right away that he could fall asleep again. And he didn't exactly have a reason  _ not  _ to go sleep. 

Usually he spent his last few days at Watford walking the grounds, memorizing the halls, having tea and all the leftover — 

"Scones!" The thought startled him to full wakefulness. "There are scones in the kitchen!" He elaborated. 

Baz gave him another unimpressed look. "Ten seconds ago you looked about to pass out." 

"And now I want breakfast," Simon countered, getting up, "Come on." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Did you have breakfast?" 

Baz blinked. "I didn't." 

"Then come on. Or were you planning to just not eat?" Simon lifted his brows, smirking ahead of time because he so rarely got the upper hand, "Or do you not  _ need  _ to eat?" 

Baz's gaze darkened. "Of course I need to eat." 

"Then come on." 

It took a long moment, but then Baz tugged out the other earbud and put them away in his nightstand. He pocketed the phone and sat up slowly, "Fine." 

He bent down to put shoes on. 

" _ Thank  _ you for doing me this  _ amazing _ favor of coming to get food," he said dryly, "That you are also going to eat. For yourself."

"You're welcome," Baz said just as droll, leading the way out of the room. 

Simon rolled his eyes, falling into step with him. They didn’t speak, just made their way down the steps in a strange and silent competition — Baz taking the lead and then Simon skipping two steps ahead, back and forth until they finally pushed out onto the walkway. 

The sky above them was a bright grey, the way Baz’s eyes looked when he’d backed anyone into a corner talking  _ connotations  _ and magic or whatever. 

There didn’t seem to be anyone else around even though Simon knew some of the staff and even a few other students usually hung around for a few days after classes ended too. 

As they approached the dining hall, Simon picked up the pace in anticipation. Beside him, Baz huffed a breath, almost like a snort and Simon looked over at him. "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"You made a sound." 

"Occasionally happens. You're making some now." 

"No, just – "

"Oh look we're here," Baz interrupted, pushing into the dining hall and striding towards the kitchen.

It was empty. The cook would be back at the end of the week to close everything up and take anything that was perishable over to a shelter. In the meantime, any staff or students that were at Watford could help themselves to whatever was there. 

Simon went directly to the pantry. "There's always extra scones," he said, disappearing inside. When he came out, Baz was getting the tea on — that surprised him. 

"I was gonna do that," he said. 

"I don’t want to imagine the swill you call tea." 

Simon frowned. "I can make a pot of tea." 

"Doubtful, but okay." Baz said dryly. He went to the cooler and started taking things out. 

"Now what are you doing?" 

"I'm making myself breakfast. Stuffing ones face with scones doesn’t count." 

As if to make a point, Simon took a bite out of one. "Why not?" 

"Because they're not a proper breakfast."

"Says who." 

"Says everyone who's ever eaten a proper breakfast," Baz retorted. 

Simon found himself smiling a little. "Doubtful, but okay," he echoed back, pulling himself up to sit on the counter His side twinged; he took another bite of a scone. 

Baz gave him a scathing look. "Countertops are not seating." 

"Do you even know what you're doing? Even if classes are out, you'll still get in trouble if you burn the kitchen down." 

Baz shrugged, getting a pan out and setting it on the stove. "I'll just blame the Chosen One." 

Simon frowned, taking another bite. "Why do you always do that?" 

"I've never actually burned a kitchen down," Baz said, rolling his eyes. He cut a small amount of butter into the pan and then reached for the eggs. 

Simon reached for the butter. "You call me Chosen One, a lot." 

"It's your official title." 

"It's not," Simon frowned. He cut a big chunk of butter off the block and smeared it on top of his next scone. 

"It is," Baz countered, glancing at him with disgust, "That's not even warm." 

Simon shrugged. "Can I have eggs?" He asked around the mouthful of scone. 

"Absolutely not." 

"I'll finish the tea," Simon offered, hopping off the counter and getting two cups out. He got the leaves ready, the strainer, and then just let himself watch the pot. Behind him Baz was cracking eggs, stirring them, fiddling with other things at the countertop, then adding them to the hot pan. The sizzle of the eggs on the heat were the only sound in the kitchen until the kettle started whistling. 

It was maybe the calmest, least-tense seven minutes he and Baz had ever spent together. 

"So I'll give you tea, you'll give me eggs, eh?" He tried. 

Baz shot him an incredulous look. "I  _ started  _ the tea." 

"And I finished it," Simon said, still working on it. He paused to break off another chunk of a scone and eat it. 

"I didn't  _ ask  _ you to finish it, you just took over." 

Simon nodded, fixing one cup the way knew Baz liked it. He slid it over to him. "You're welcome." 

Baz’s face pinched, contorting into something that wasn’t quite a grimace. "I'm not going to sit here and have… breakfast with you," he grumbled, stirring the eggs in the pan. 

"Why not? We're the only ones in here right now . And we both need to eat…" he paused to take another bite, "Unless – "

" _ Don't  _ ask me again," Baz snapped. "Yes, I need to eat. I don't need to eat  _ with you."  _

Simon pressed his lips together. "Look, we – last night we managed – you managed to be a decent bloke. We could at least – " 

"I'm  _ completely  _ uninterested in what you would term a  _ decent bloke,  _ Snow," Baz said sharply, getting plate down and starting to spoon eggs onto it. "And I don't know what it is you think happened last night beyond me stopping you from going off and destroying our room – possibly  _ killing  _ me – but whatever it is, get over it," he finished harshly. “Nothing’s changed.”

He turned with his plate in his hand and took one of the scones Simon had piled on the counter, set it on his plate. 

Then took the teacup with the prepared tea and left the room. 

Simon didn't move for a minute after Baz stormed out – too surprised to even be angry about it. Baz was right – whatever had happened last night hadn't changed anything; it really had been self-serving on Baz's part. They  _ shared  _ the space where Simon had apparently been setting sparks off.

It didn't mean that their life-long rivalry had changed; it didn't mean that they weren't on opposite sides of a war; it didn't mean that they were anything even close to civil with each other. 

Did he even  _ want  _ to be civil with Baz? A Pitch? A  _ Vampire?  _

Simon blew out a breath. Of course not. 

It was just that — 

the thought lingered.

_ Baz had called him Simon.  _

He swallowed hard and turned around to fix his own cup of tea and—there were still eggs in the pan. 

Simon frowned, glancing in the direction Baz had gone; was Baz just going to  _ waste  _ these eggs? 

Of course he was, posh wanker. He wouldn’t care if more than half a pan of food went into the trash. Well,  _ Simon _ cared, he wasn't going to waste them. Leaving them there would just draw rats anyway (maybe that was Baz's plan?). 

He took down a plate and served it up. There was crumbled sausage in the eggs! 

Simon sat down in the kitchen with another scone, his eggs, and his cup of tea (and okay, maybe it did feel a little more like a proper breakfast).

**.tbc.**


	2. Part I : Watford (cont'd)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that this was self-indulgent fluff? It is and I hope you enjoy. :)

**SIMON**

  
  
  


“ _ Now _ what are you doing?”

“Oh are you acknowledging my presence now?” Simon said a childishly as he double-knotted the laces on his boots. He’d gone to visit Ebb after breakfast and decided to head back the Wood again now that he had eaten. He hadn’t eaten last time he had checked the area of the attack for dropped weapons. 

He had come back to his room to change into his boots - just in case. 

Baz was still here. (And  _ why _ was Baz still here? _ )  _ Using his mobile blatantly. Ignoring Simon with the kind of ease that came from actual  _ years  _ of practice at it. 

“You can’t possibly be going out to kill something right now,” Baz continued, “It is going to rain.”

Simon frowned a little. “What makes you think that?”

"Besides the fact that you can  _ see  _ the rain clouds rolling in?" He said flatly, “The weather report.”

"No, not that," Simon huffed. "That I'm going out to kill something." 

“The number of times you’ve stomped into this room with some type of other-worldly intestines on the bottom of those boots, that’s what.”

“Oh,” Simon said. Huh. He shrugged. “I’m not going to kill anything… unless I have to,” he added. 

“Snow,” Baz said tightly, like he was gritting his teeth. “It is going to rain,” he repeated.

Simon shrugged. “So? I’m just going into the wood.”

Baz stared at him. 

Simon stares back for a beat, but he could never keep quiet and still as long as Baz could. “What?”

“You really are an idiot. Bunce is  _ all  _ of your brain cells, isn’t she?”

Simon bristled. “It was her idea actually,” he retorted. Which wasn’t quite true. 

Or true at all.

“I doubt that,” Baz said. “What could you possibly have to do in the Wood today?”

“I’m going to look for something.”

“A  _ fight  _ perhaps?” Baz retorted

Simon rolled his eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m always curious to see how stupid you really are, helps me plot.”

“Why are you still here?”

Now Baz rolled his eyes. "To stop you from stomping out into the Wood and killing some poor creature for no reason!" 

"I'm not going to kill anything!" 

"Then take off your bloody boots and read a book," Baz snapped, "Merlin knows you're never caught up on the reading." 

Simon rolled his eyes again. "I'm going to the Wood. Penny said the dagger the goblins used was probably enchanted. I can't just let that go. The Mage would want me to look into it." 

"The Mage isn't here." 

"Which is why I'm going to check it out. I didn't find anything yesterday, but – "

"You were in the Wood  _ yesterday?"  _ Baz snapped, seeming to straighten up. 

"And I didn't find anything, but I was tired and hadn't eaten and maybe today there might be something," he finished. 

"You're an idiot," he snapped, bending down and starting to put his shoes on. 

Simon blinked. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm not letting you go off trudging into the Wood and then leading a horde of angry whatever's back to our room. There're barely any mages here right now. We don't have any defenses." 

"We don't need any defenses," Simon said frowning. "You're coming with me?" 

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Simon's eyes narrowed. "Why? Is there something you don't want me to find?" 

"Something – like an enchanted dagger?" Baz sneered. 

“You can’t come with me,” Simon said, glaring. 

Baz lifted an eyebrow. “Why not? Something to hide?” 

“How do I know you don’t just want to get me alone in the Wood with a magical blade?” Simon said suspiciously. 

“Is that going to stop you from going?”

“No,” Simon said after a beat. 

“Then let's go,” Baz said flatly. 

Simon frowned at his back for a moment, but then moved quickly to follow; wincing a little when the motion tugged at his side. It kept  _ doing  _ that, he thought irritatedly.

“What exactly makes you think you’re going to find something today if you didn’t find anything yesterday?” Baz asked him. 

That sounded almost helpful, Simon glanced at Baz’s profile—no, he wasn’t trying to be helpful. 

It was like Baz had the  _ impression  _ of a sneer permanently stamped on his face. 

Simon sighed. “I don’t think I looked closely enough, I don’t even really remember looking… I think I was kinda out of it,” he admitted, glancing at Baz quickly, bracing himself for an actual sneer. 

There wasn’t one though – Baz didn’t say anything. Not right then and not a minute later. They just walked on in silence for a long stretch and with every step, Simon felt himself get more tense, more suspicious. The sky was shifting between gray and silver, the air around them by turns windy and still. 

Baz was right, it was going to rain. 

Simon glared straight ahead at the thought. 

They were over the drawbridge, already a ways down one of the worn paths into the Wood, when he couldn’t stop himself, blurted out, “I don’t get what you’re doing here. Why are you coming out here with me?”

“I’m luring you out into the Wavering Wood to finally do away with you,” Baz said impassively. 

And Simon blew out a breath. “I mean, _are you?” _He demanded, “Because that would probably make sense, normally. Except actually, right now, it _wouldn’t_ make sense! Not after last night.” He felt worked up all of a sudden, flushed hot, “But you don’t ever really make sense anyway, do you Baz!? I don’t _get _you. I’ve never – ” he huffed, cut himself off and started over, “But just so you know a fight in the Wood would be a really shit way to end the school year – another fight in the Wood, I mean. A fight with you. Even more shit than it’s already been. But why _else _would you still be here — ” 

“Would you  _ shut up,”  _ Baz snapped, “Your idiocy is actually hurting my brain right now.”

Simon stopped in the middle of the path to glare at Baz. “I know what I know,” he snapped back—which okay, sounded a little ridiculous out loud. So he pressed on, “You were  _ decent  _ last night. Maybe like a proper roommate for the first time ever. But I still don’t get what you’re still doing here, you’re never here this late after classes end! And whatever it is you're plotting — ”

“My stepmother had a baby this week,” Baz interrupted, his voice like ice. 

And it froze Simon silent.  _ Oh.  _ “Oh.”

"Yeah,  _ oh,"  _ Baz sneered. He had stopped walking too, was staring down his nose at Simon, those grey eyes dark and stormy. 

"I'm letting things settle for a minute before I get there —  _ if that's alright with you,"  _ he finished scathingly. 

Simon licked his lips, caught off guard for a moment, but then, “Why didn’t you just  _ say  _ that?” He demanded, eyes narrowed. 

“ _ Because,”  _ Baz bit out, eyes narrowed, “As I’ve said, I don’t owe you any explanations.” 

Simon huffed, shaking his head a little. "You're telling me that you're avoiding going home.  _ You,"  _ he said and wished he could arch his eyebrows like Baz, but settled for widening his eyes dramatically instead, " _ Avoding  _ something?" 

"There will be  _ four  _ children in the house, Snow." 

Simon blinked. "Four?" He tilted his head, "You have  _ four  _ siblings?" It was hard to imagine. 

No. 

Impossible. 

It was impossible to imagine. 

Baz with siblings. 

Baz with  _ four  _ siblings.

Baz rolled his eyes and turned back to the path, picking up his pace with his ridiculous grasshopper legs. 

"Four’s not that many," Simon offered, running a little to catch up. "I know what it's like. Kind of. I mean. Sometimes, there's younger kids. At the homes. And it's usually a lot of them, more than four…" he paused, "Not babies though. I don't think I've ever seen a little baby, like a new one. In real life." 

Baz stared straight ahead and didn’t say anything. 

So Simon continued. “Mostly it’s just… middle-sized kids? I guess. Not very little or big. The very little ones usually go to people’s homes. Are all your siblings little?” He thought to ask. 

It struck him as crazy then, that he didn’t know that — about someone he had shared a room with for six years. 

Baz was still walking and Simon sighed, glancing around to take stock of where they were. “It’s this way,” he offered a beat later. 

Baz paused just to frown at him pointedly. “What were the two of you doing out here anyway?” 

Simon shrugged. “We check the Wood sometimes,” he offered carefully. 

Baz slid another look at him, this one incredulous. “You could at least  _ try  _ to make your lies believable. It’s  _ insulting _ you think I’ll just buy that.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “It’s not a lie,” he said adamantly. It wasn’t the whole truth either, but Baz didn’t need to know that sometimes Penny tried to help him with his control on magic. 

“See what I mean,” Baz sneered, “ _ Insulting.” _

Simon shrugged. “Over there,” he said, taking them further away from the paths. 

“The likelihood of there being an enchanted dagger just lying in the dirt is abysmally low,” Baz added, “You realize that right?” 

“Okay but I didn’t ask you to come,” Simon pointed out, trying to stay calm, “I actually asked you  _ not _ to come.” 

“And if there is one, what exactly are you planning to do with it?” Baz continued as if Simon hadn’t spoken. 

“Use it to find out how they did it and make sure they don't do it again?" Simon offered, thrown off enough that his voice lilted at the end. 

"Right. And how do you plan to do that?" 

“I don’t know – give it to the Mage,” he said gruffly, frowning. 

“If you can find him.”

That stung; his hand clenched into fists. “I can find him.”

“Sure.”

“I  _ can,”  _ Simon insisted, even though he knew suddenly that they both knew he was lying. He clenched his jaw, looking away. “Or his  _ men,”  _ he added emphatically. “I could give it to one of them. They could figure out how goblins got their hands on something like that...”

Baz rolled his eyes. “Goblins probably bought it. They aren’t exactly known for their magical prowess.”

Simon frowned. “There are magical weapons for sale like that?”

“They’re not supposed to be used like  _ that,” _ Baz pointed out. “They’re for hunting. Or sometimes, they’re wartime weapons.”

“Oh,” Simon murmured, kicking at the dirt a little as they walked. “Well,” he huffed, his frown more pronounced, more determined, “We’re not in wartime.” 

The unspoken  _ yet  _ hung between them. 

And Simon was a little surprised when Baz didn’t throw it back at him. 

“No. We’re not in wartime,” he agreed instead, which made Simon stumble a little, tripping over his own feet in surprise. 

Baz  _ did  _ sneer then. “I thought at least  _ walking  _ would be at your skill level, Snow.” 

Simon rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort—but right then a fat raindrop landed on his cheek. “Oh,” he breathed instead, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. 

They were under a lot of tree coverage, but at the tip top of the trees, he could see the way the branches swayed back and forth, revealing for just seconds a time, a gray sky that was losing it’s tinges of silver light. 

Another raindrop hit his nose. 

“Imagine that,” Baz said, in a voice so dry it wouldn’t have surprised Simon if the strength of it alone managed to protect him from the rain, “It’s raining.” 

Simon huffed, bristling a little. “You could have stayed back at the room,” he reminded him again.

“ _ You  _ could have stayed back at the room,” Baz snapped back, “This is pointless. It – ” 

“It happened right over there,” Simon interrupted him, motioning to a clearing. The rain was getting heavier, slicking his hair to his forehead, seeping into his clothes, “Help me look before all the daylight goes,” he added.

“My  _ hair  _ is getting wet,” Baz complained a beat later as the rain’s pace increased.

“Well, you knew it was going to rain,” Simon said a little snidely, “And I didn’t  _ ask  _ – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Baz interrupted, squinting through the rain at the clearing and brushes ahead of them. “What were you doing out here?” 

“I told you,” Simon insisted, but the wind picked up just then.

Baz frowned, “What?” 

“I told you already!” Simon shouted back to be heard over the wind. 

Baz rolled his eyes expansively. 

And Simon glared back. “Just help me look!” He shouted, “Be useful since you followed me out here!” 

Baz smirked and even before he spoke, Simon wanted to punch him in the face. “Don’t like it when the shoe’s on the other foot do you, Snow?” 

It was true, which was probably why Simon snapped immediately, “That was totally different!” (It didn’t feel good to realize that as frustrated as he had been with Baz this afternoon, that was probably how Baz had felt for an entire  _ year) _ .

The rain was coming down hard as they split up to search the perimeter. “They came from over there – ” he called over to Baz, motioning ahead of them and to the right. 

“All of them?” Baz checked, looking in that direction. 

“I think so,” he called back. 

The wind was getting harder and harder to shout over. 

Baz rolled his eyes, “Let’s go.” 

Simon started, “What? Where?” 

“Over the hill,” Baz said like it was the most obvious thing, “You said you weren’t sure you killed them all!” 

Simon blinked, water in his eyes. “What? When?” He shouted. 

“Yesterday! And even if you did kill them all. If there had been an enchanted dagger left behind someone would have come to get it! And whoever came to get it would have come from that direct too…” 

It seemed so obvious now that Baz had said it. Simon nodded, following him with quick strides. It was all moss and broken branches, but it was a good idea. “I don’t see tracks,” he said. 

Baz nodded, but pressed on. “Take that side and — ”

A gale force of wind cut off his words, pushing them both back as the water whipped around them. 

“Maybe we should go back?” Simon offered, “It’s kind of a storm.” 

“Oh now you want to go back?” Baz demanded. 

“I’m just saying – ”

Baz didn’t wait to see the end of his sentence — Baz pulled his wand out. 

And Simon felt every nerve he had stand on end.

“Baz – ” he started, holding a hand out. 

**“Rain, Rain go away; come back another day.” **

It was difficult spell, anything that attempted weather manipulation was, but it worked for him.

(Of course it worked for Baz.) 

The space above them billowed up and out, like a cyclone of air – dry air. The sky above cleared of any clouds — 

“Wow,” Simon breathed before he could stop himself. 

There wasn’t any wind anymore, so Baz heard it perfectly. 

And Simon flushed, swallowed hard, “I uh – ”

“You were saying?” Baz asked, cutting him off.

“Uh,” Simon blinked, “I uh, I said we should get back. To Watford. It’s not just rain, it’s a storm and…” he trailed off, his gaze taking in the space around them again. “Baz,” he tilted his head back to look up at the sky, “How did you… this is great.” 

“It won’t last,” Baz said evenly, tucking his wand away, “A few minutes, maybe.” 

“So?” Simon said, smiling, still looking up, “Look at what you did…” he knew he sounded awed, but he couldn’t help it. The rain was still falling, a torrent of it. He could see it, but the air around him and Baz was perfectly still, “Even if it only lasts a minute.” 

“Yes, well. Simpletons are always easy to impress,” Baz dismissed, walking past Simon. “We’re heading back then…” 

“Yeah…” Simon murmured and followed more slowly, the cushioned air moved with them. He was looking around as he added, “It’s too much rain. I don’t see the blade and even if there were tracks, they’re going to be washed away now…” 

Baz nodded in reply, picking his way through brushes. Simon let him lead the way back, it gave him time to watch the way the dry air that Baz conjured pushed through the rain, following their path over the uneven ground. 

“Pick up the pace, Snow,” Baz demanded a beat later. 

And Simon started a little, realizing abruptly that Baz was several feet ahead of him. He felt – heavy, slow. “Right, yeah,” he called, moving to catch up. “Did you – I could never cast something like this…” he breathed and it was an admission he probably shouldn’t have made to his nemesis. 

All Baz said though was: “Yes, you’re right.” 

Simon snorted a laugh. “And now I know how to get you to say that,” he joked. 

“Admit to all your failings?” Baz offered, glancing over at him. 

Simon shrugged, still smiling. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

Baz rolled his eyes. 

And just like that, the spell broke. 

A sheet of rain descended on them. 

They were drenched again in the space of a breath and thunder roared above. 

“Bloody hell,” Baz shouted over the resurgence of the wind, “Would you hurry  _ up,  _ Snow.”

Simon hurried forward. He couldn’t quite catch his breath. “I’m right here,” he snapped, “And don’t complain! I told you - “ 

“And I told you it was going to rain!”

Lightning lit the gray sky. “Well maybe if you’d said it was going to be a storm!”

“Would that have changed your mind?! You’re nothing but a stubborn numpty!”

“I didn’t ask you to come!”

“You’d probably be even  _ further  _ from Watford if I hadn’t!”

“So what? How would that affect you in any — ”

Simon saw it from the corner of his eye or maybe he heard it first — a flash of lightning, close,  _ too  _ close and a crack.

A crack closer than thunder, sharper than thunder,  _ closer.  _

And then one of the shadows above them moved,  _ fell.  _

“Baz!” The alarm slammed through him so loud and sudden it felt more drenching than the rain had. 

He was leaping forward, reaching, pushing, before everything even fully registered. His body, his magic, colliding with Baz just as a horrendous creaking sound ripped through the air and what seemed like half a tree collapsed. 

White hot pain seared along Simon’s arm as they hit the ground hard. A mess of limbs and leaves and branches, all waterlogged and brittle. They rolled; one over the other, sliding through wet moss and hitting the base of a tree hard. 

Simon groaned, his magic billowing out to shield them as more branches fell from overhead. 

Baz hissed underneath him, tense and still, as the wind whipped even more leaves and rain above them. “ _ Fuck,”  _ he muttered, “Get  _ off  _ me, Snow,” he added when Simon kept his guard up, his magic glowing a dull red around them. 

“Are you okay?” Simon shouted, pulling back and sitting up. Lightning flashed behind Baz. “Baz!?” He shouted again, “Are you – ”

“What the  _ hell _ was that!? You pushed me down a hill!” Baz shouted back and thunder roared. 

Simon flinched. “The  _ tree  _ was going to fall  _ on  _ you!” He retorted, motioning behind them with one arm. 

They were both up now, sitting on the ground; somehow even more soaked to the skin than they’d been a minute ago. 

“You’re a menace!” Baz accused, “Get away from me!”

“I was  _ saving  _ you!” Simon said, outraged. His magic flared, they both felt it, smoke and heat, where a breath ago there had been only moss and wet. 

“Get a bloody grip on yourself, Snow!” Baz shouted at him, “We still have to get back to Watford.” 

Simon grit his teeth. “I wasn’t trying to push you, I – ”

“Fine! Okay, I believe you!” Baz interrupted, “Get a  _ grip  _ on your magic.” 

Simon pushed to his feet, glaring, his boots squelching in the mud. “Fine!” he echoed loudly, “Let’s go!” His heart was pounding and he knew if they argued about this now, he was going to go off. He was too on edge, too  _ terrified,  _ from seeing the way that tree branch had cracked, the way the lightning had come so close,  _ right there,  _ where Baz had been standing — 

Baz sucked in air through his teeth when he stood, stumbling. 

And all the anger left Simon in a whooshing breath. “Hey,” he reached out a hand, “You okay?”

“ _ No,”  _ Baz snapped at him, shoving his hand away, “My – ” he looked down at his leg, “I must have twisted it when you  _ tackled  _ me,” he accused, leaning down tentatively to touch his right ankle. 

“When I  _ saved  _ you, you mean?” 

“When you knocked me over into the bushes and  _ twisted my ankle,”  _ Baz insisted angrily. 

Simon blew out a breath. “Whatever! Let’s just go.” 

Baz took a step and faltered again when he put weight on his ankle. Simon reached for him and got swatted away again. 

They hobbled a few paces like that – Baz taking a step, slipping in the rain, limping; Simon reaching for him, steadying him, getting pushed away. 

“Ebb’s house is right over there!” Simon said after a few more minutes like that. He pointed over the last hill. “Let’s go there instead. It’s closer!” 

“I’m not going to the  _ goat herders  _ house!” Baz shouted. 

“It’s closer than going all the way to Mummers House!” Simon said again. 

Baz sneered. “It’s a  _ goat herders  _ house!” He took another step forward and stumbled again, bracing himself against a tree. 

“And it’s where we’re going!” Simon insisted, reaching for him again. 

Baz shoved him away again, almost slipping. 

“Would you  _ stop,”  _ Simon snapped. 

“No!” Baz snapped back. 

“Baz!” Simon shouted, voice cracking. There was so much rain and wind and what if another branch fell? What if a  _ tree _ fell? “Just let me help! I just – ” he took a breath, what if there was more lightning? Baz was  _ flammable _ . “I just want to help!” It tore out of him, painful and sincere. 

Baz stared at him in the darkness (when had they lost the sun?); rainwater was sliding down his face, slicking his dark hair to his cheeks, “I don’t need help,” he said, pushing past Simon. “Just lead the way to your bloody goat herder!” He added over his shoulder.

Relief flushed through Simon so fast it left him feeling dizzy. He breathed out, nodding. “Yeah – ” he panted, “Yeah, okay…” 

And that’s what he did. He trudged through the shrubs and the branches and cut a path through towards Ebb’s. The rain wasn’t letting up and by the time they reached her door, they were covered in mud, drenched, and completely exhausted.

He had pounded on the door and called out her name, called out his own name, a few times before she was there — ushering them inside and shaking her head at them. 

_ Not smart to be out in this  _ she kept tisking as she got them towels to clean their faces even as she cast  ** _clean as whistle _ ** at them. Then spelled each of them dry with a quick  ** _dry as a bone_ ** . 

When she turned to leave, Simon stopped her with an urgent  _ Baz hurt his ankle.  _

Baz stiffened, scowling, insisted immediately that he was fine, but Ebb gave him a small sad smile. 

_ One of the only times it’s pure,  _ she offered and cast  ** _good as new _ ** at him with such simple ease it was almost like it hadn’t happened. 

Baz seemed surprised by it, Simon just hugged her tightly. 

She left them in her small living room with piles of blankets and pillows, a roaring fire and hot tea. It made Simon want to cry with relief and he wished he’d hugged her twice. There was always tomorrow morning. 

“She didn’t have to do that,” Baz said and he sounded almost put-out by it. He was sitting in the corner of the sofa (the corner closest to the fire), tugging one of the blankets around his shoulders, “I could have healed it myself.” 

Simon glanced at him, he was definitely cross about it. It made Simon smile a bit. 

“Doesn’t it work better if you don’t have to expend your own energy to do it?” He asked, settling in at the other end of the sofa. He pulling one of the blankets over too, spilling it between him and Baz. 

Baz didn’t reply and when Simon looked over at him, he seemed – surprised again. 

Simon blinked slowly. “What?” 

“That’s right,” Baz said. 

And something about the tone made Simon roll his eyes slightly, “I do listen in class,” he said ruefully. “I try to anyway, most of the time.” He shrugged, lifting his feet up on the couch, knees under his chin. “I’m not great at doing it though – healing magic,” he didn’t need to add  _ any magic _ because he expected Baz to. 

Baz didn’t. 

Baz watched him for a moment and then said, “Her spellwork isn’t terrible.”

Simon smiled slowly. “Ebb’s great,” he said easily and let his gaze drift to the fire, “She knows a lot about Watford and magic and just… things.” 

Baz snorted softly next to him. “Things?” 

“Life things,” Simon said more quietly, “Sad things.” Ebb was almost always sad and Simon found he could understand that.

He glanced over when he realized Baz hadn’t replied to that, hadn’t mocked him or sneered at him. Baz’s head was turned towards the fire, the light of the flames casting dancing shadows along his profile. 

His hair was dry now, but it was loose around his face, curling at the ends and Simon thought it made him look more like a boy, less like a monster. 

(Has Baz ever looked like a monster?) 

(Vampires were monsters.) 

(Right?) 

Baz’s head turned towards him then and Simon quickly glanced away, bringing his arms up to curl around his knees. He winced a little when the blanket caught on his elbow. 

“What’s wrong?” Baz asked, catching it immediately. 

“Nothing,” Simon said with a little shake of his head, “I scratched my arm, I think…” he explained, reaching over with his other hand to touch the spot. 

“Let me see it,” Baz said flatly. 

Simon frowned. “Why?” He shifted a little to look at it himself, bringing his elbow up to the light. The scratches were more like gouges, jagged and going the length of his arm, deepening at the elbow before cutting off. It’s where the branch had caught him when it fell.

“Crowley Snow,” Baz snapped, “Can you do  _ anything  _ without bleeding your way through it?” 

Simon’s sighed, still looking at his arm. He was so tired. “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to. I – ” 

The tip of Baz’s wand touched Simon’s arm and his mouth snapped shut just as Baz said,  **“Good as new.” **

And Simon startled at the feel of it — Penny’s magic always felt warm and syrupy, warm enough that it was almost more than he could stand. 

But Baz’s magic — Baz’s magic felt cool to the touch, slippery and slick as it prickled along his skin and then just as smoothly it was hot, a burning spot, and then it was gone, melted away.

Simon felt dizzy again, breath caught in his throat for a moment. 

Baz’s gaze was back on the fire, his wand put away, and Simon didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched, long and heavy, nothing but the crackling of the fire between them. 

“Why – ” he cleared his throat, “You didn’t have to do that. Ebb… I would have asked in the morning.” Maybe. If he had remembered. 

Baz shrugged. It was… an odd motion on him. 

Simon took a breath and after another moment said, “Thank you...” 

The words were barely out of his mouth when Baz snapped, “ _ Don’t  _ thank me.” 

“Why not?” 

“ _ Because.  _ We’re not – nothing’s changed, Snow,” he said, his voice very low and even, “We’re still enemies.”

Simon pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to be. I don’t want to have enemies,” he admitted, trying to match Baz’s tone, low and even, “I never wanted to have enemies.”

Baz’s gaze stayed on the fire. “Well for once you’re not getting what you want, Chosen One.” 

It was the kind of thing that would usually get Simon worked up – unnecessarily mean and unfair. 

But Simon didn’t have the energy. The words were unfair and he thought that maybe Baz knew that; instead he thought about the feel of Baz’s magic, that touch of chill that warmed so quickly to heat before melting away. 

“We should have a truce,” he said to the fire,  _ not  _ looking at Baz. 

“A  _ what?”  _ Baz said, surprise cracking that even tone of his. 

“A truce.” Simon repeated softly, “You know, stop fighting. Not getting – ”

“I know what the definition of the word truce  _ is,  _ Snow!” Baz hissed, his voice still low and Simon realized abruptly he was doing that because Ebb had gone to bed just one room away. 

It made him smile. “You asked.” 

“I didn’t  _ ask,  _ I’m questioning your sanity,” he retorted, “Why would you and I ever have a  _ truce?”  _

“Why not?” Simon shrugged heavily, “We’re roommates, the crucible cast us together.” 

“We’re  _ enemies,”  _ Baz said emphatically, “You’re the Mage’s Heir. I don’t actually need to explain this to you, right?” 

Simon shrugged again, leaning his cheek against the backrest of the sofa, his gaze on Baz’s face. “We have two years left at Watford. And I have to defeat the Humdrum. I might not even – ” he shrugged one shoulder, just a little, couldn’t help himself. He could think it, even if he couldn’t quite say it:  _ he might not even survive that.  _ “Why should we fight before we have to?” 

Baz just stared at him, like Simon was revealing something unfathomable, so Simon pressed on. “Wouldn’t it be easier? If we didn’t fight all the time. We spend so much time together and…” he smiled slightly as he added, “I just saved your life and you healed me. I think we should have a truce.”

Baz scowled. “That is  _ not  _ what happened.” 

“Yes it is,” Simon said, quiet but unmovable. He shifted on the sofa a little, ignoring the twinge at his side. “Look. Yeah, maybe someday we face each other as enemies on opposite sides of a war – but maybe we don’t. There’s a bunch of reasons why that might never happen and even if it does, it’s years away.” 

“I’m not having a truce with you,” Baz retorted and for once it looked like he was the one getting worked up. “And we  _ are  _ going to face each other on opposite sides of a war, there’s no question about it. After the Humdrum’s gone the Mage is coming for my family, for all the Old families. Everybody knows the only reason he hasn’t done it yet is in case we’re needed to help defeat the Humdrum.” 

Simon shook his head a little, one cheek rubbing against the fabric of Ebb’s couch. “I’ll do that, don’t worry.” That was his whole point. He was the Chosen One and the Chosen One would defeat the Humdrum.

“You’re daft,” Baz spit, eyes dark in the firelight. “You can’t even cast a spell.” 

“We don’t have to talk about how I’m going to do it. I just will,” Simon offered. He didn’t want to talk about the Humdrum; he didn’t want to think about that. 

He wanted to talk about this, about him and Baz. “What about a mini truce then?” He offered. “I won’t call you out as a vampire anymore.”

Even in the firelight, Simon could see Baz’s eyes go cold. “I don’t see how that’s a truce,” he said. 

And Simon smiled faintly again. “Don’t you?” 

“ _ No,”  _ Baz said darkly. 

Simon breathed out a soft laugh, closing his eyes. “Just think about it then,” he murmured. “Okay?” 

“ _ No,”  _ Baz repeated, “I will definitely not think about it.” 

“I think it’d be nice,” Simon mumbled, “If we had a truce. Even a mini one.” 

“Are you delirious again?” 

Simon blinked his eyes open. “No, I don’t think so. I’m just… tired, I guess. And if you were going to bite me, you probably would have already.” 

“ _ What?”  _ Baz snapped. 

“A vampire bite. You would have done it already… you would have done a lot of things today, if you were going to do any of them…” It was nonsensical, Simon knew it as he was saying it; but he didn’t know how else to explain it. That they had been alone all day today, had been alone in the  _ Wavering Wood _ for most of the day, and the only time Baz had used magic on him was to keep them both safe from a storm. 

It made him think that maybe Baz didn’t want to hurt him. Not really. 

Not anymore than Simon wanted to hurt him. 

Which was not really at all. 

Simon wasn’t sure how long he laid there — with his knees pressed to his chest and his cheek against the back of the sofa, turned in Baz’s direction; his eyes closed, drifting in the silence and the soft heat of the fire — before he felt cool fingers on his brow again. 

It was familiar, from the dream he’d had the night before. It was perfect. “Hm?” He hummed, eyes flickering open. 

Baz snatched his hand back. “Drink your tea,” he ordered. 

Simon’s brows drew together. “Tea?” 

“Your goat herder left tea,” Baz said and then pointedly leaned forward and took one of the cups. 

“Ebb,” Simon reminded him with a little smile. 

Simon watched Baz take a sip of the tea — he made a face. Simon had expected him to make a face. “Good?” He teased. 

“Try it yourself,” Baz replied tetchily. 

And then Baz did something odd. He reached over, took the other cup of tea, and handed it to Simon. 

Simon was so surprised that he took the cup. 

Baz didn’t even spill it on him.

“Well,” Baz prompted, “What are you waiting for?”

Simon looked down at the cup of tea and reached for it slowly, taking it with both hands. He felt hazy, as if he really had been sleeping. Had he been sleeping? 

“Drink it, Snow.” Baz pushed again. 

Simon looked from Baz’s face to the tea and decided this was good enough to seal their truce. He took a drink. 

“S’it poisoned?” He asked, smiling a little. 

Baz huffed. “You’re the one blabbering on about a truce.” 

“I know,” Simon said quietly, “I think we already have one…” the corners of his lips tilted up, “A mini one.” 

“We do  _ not,”  _ Baz said, but he didn’t sound so sour about it all of a sudden.

Simon rested the teacup on the couch between them. “Would it be so bad? We could stop arguing about the window, we could compromise.”

“ _ Nobody  _ should leave a window open in the middle of  _ January , _ Snow,” Baz retorted. There was no fire to the words though, nothing goading.

“I get hot,” Simon said with a little smile. “At least you can have more blankets, what am  _ I  _ supposed to do?” 

“Use your obnoxious powers to cool yourself down,” Baz suggested, “Or go sleep outside.” 

“I tried that! I got in trouble –  _ you  _ told on me.” 

“I don’t remember that,” Baz noted, taking a sip of his tea. 

Simon smiled a little, closing his eyes again. “If we had a mini truce we could compromise,” he murmured. “We could figure it out…”

He felt like he was floating, the room spinning slowly, not unpleasantly, behind his closed lids

“I don’t want to have a truce with you, Snow,” Baz said into the silence. 

Simon couldn’t stop his mouth from puckering downwards in a frown, his brows from drawing together. It wasn’t nearly as terrible as some of the other things Baz had said to him over the years – or even  _ today,  _ but it still hurt. 

“Okay,” he said, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. His side twinged, ached, and he drew in a shaky breath. “Think about it, okay?” He added, smiling faintly as he dropped his head back to the couch. 

“Yes, if I need another reason for my family to disown me, sure…” Baz said dryly. 

“Besides the vampire thing you mean,” Simon mumbled. He felt loose all of a sudden; like everything was going to fall away and that was okay. Why should he hold on anyway?

“What vampire thing?” 

Baz’s voice sounded far away. 

Simon smiled faintly, “Sure, yeah…” 

Something slid out of his fingers, but he couldn’t quite remember what or understand why. 

“Before you spill it,” Baz said. 

_ Spill what?  _ Simon wanted to ask, but the thought fluttered away before he could form the words. “Open it half the night,” he offered slowly, “L’get you extra blankets…” he smiled to himself, “Get you a hot water bottle… like numpties.”

“How is this a peace offering again?” Baz asked. 

He sounded amused and Simon wanted to see that; his eyes flickered open and he peered at Baz through his lashes. Baz had one leg pulled up on the sofa now, an arm curled loosely around it, hand resting on his knee. He was looking at the fire, the lights and shadows moving over his face delicately. His mouth was curved ever so slightly up at the corners, his eyes alight enough to reflect the flames. 

It was a good look for him, firelight and amusement. 

“Compromise,” Simon said, trying not to slur his words, not to fall asleep. He wanted to keep this for longer — the peace and the firelight and Baz’s barely-there almost-smile. “Open the window half the night, l’tuck you in with the water bottle… a hat, mittens…” he started listing, eyes slipping shut again. 

“Definitely delirious again. Go to sleep, Snow.”

“Plannin’ n’our mini truce,” Simon mumbled, words sliding into each other despite his best efforts. 

“We do not have a truce. Mini or otherwise,” Baz responded. 

Simon smiled faintly. Baz  _ definitely  _ sounded less sour about it. “Think ‘bout it…” he whispered. 

And Simon wasn’t sure but he thought he heard a soft,  _ Okay, I’ll think about it,  _ before everything drifted away. 

  
  


-

-

-

  
  


Simon woke up slowly, awareness crawling in beat by beat — the lumpy couch cushions and the soft blanket, how warm he was (too warm?) and the faint sounds of running water (rain?). 

And the soft, rhythmic tickle of breath on his skin. 

He opened his eyes to find himself sprawled back on Ebb’s couch, half draped over the armrest, one leg sticking straight out on the floor, the other stretched out on the couch; and all along his side was Baz Pitch. 

Baz must have tipped over in his sleep; and now he was pressed against Simon’s side, his head resting against Simon’s shoulder, face tucked against Simon’s collarbone.

And Simon was going to be murdered for something he had no control over. 

The thought came to him blearily along with the sluggish realization that it wasn't quite morning yet and they were at Ebb’s and he was cuddling with Baz on Ebb’s couch.

He would probably have laughed if he didn’t feel so out of it, if he wasn’t so afraid to move, if he could bring himself to do anything but look at Baz’s face. 

He had seen Baz asleep before. Obviously. They slept in the same room together for months and months, years and years; but he’d never seen it so up close.

Baz had very long eyelashes. 

And very soft-looking hair. 

Simon swallowed hard, let himself sink back into the sofa – he was tired and he was going to be murdered anyway. He let himself feel the hair. 

It was  _ softer  _ than it looked. 

  
  


-

-

-

  
  


When he blinked, time had passed. 

There was sunlight streaming in through the windows. 

Baz wasn’t pressed against him anymore — Baz wasn’t even in the room anymore. 

He noticed it immediately, jolting awake this time with his heart pounding. Where had Baz gone? What was he doing? 

The fire was out, the blankets were folded.

Simon stood up so fast the room spun, he stumbled over the coffee table. 

He found, a few minutes later, that he was alone in the house. 

And after using the bathroom and drinking some water, that made sense. 

Ebb would be out with the goats. 

And Baz would be… Baz. 

It didn’t take him long to find Ebb and thank her again, give her that second hug.  _ Be careful with that Pitch boy,  _ she told him with watery eyes when he pulled back, patting his cheek with a calloused palm. 

Simon tilted his head and asked her:  _ What? Why? What do you mean? _

_ They don’t know how to do things any other way,  _ she said sadly, wiping at her eyes,  _ those Pitches.  _ She sniffled a little.

And Simon didn’t press her, just watched her as she wandered away, drifting towards one goat and then another. 

He turned his own way, drifted in his own direction. It took him too long to get to Mummers. Or, at least, it felt that way. 

He burst through the door to their room, already expecting a  _ crowley Snow.  _

But there was nothing. The room was empty. 

And Simon’s heart started pounding in his throat again, stomach twisting into knots. Where was Baz? The room felt stiflingly silent suddenly, unbearable. He could smell smoke, he knew he needed to calm down. But — had Baz left? Without saying —

“ _ Crowley,  _ Snow! What the hell?” 

Simon spun around. 

Baz was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. His hair was combed and he was dressed, shoes and all. 

“Oh,” Simon breathed. He sat down heavily on his bed and he breathed out, “I thought — ” he didn't finish. He couldn't say the words because it was ridiculous. So what if Baz had left without saying goodbye? They weren't friends. 

Baz frowned at him. He crossed the room, “If this is your new way of getting the window open, I’ll warn you I can get creative too," he snapped as he opened the window to clear the air.

And Simon took a deep breath, smiling slowly, “No, I — ” he licked his lips, “Weird morning,” he offered and then found himself grinning, “Weird night. Weird few days. Weird wee — ”

“Yes, I get it,” Baz cut in dryly. He sat at his desk, “Clean as whistle is no substitute for soap and water, by the way.” 

Simon was still smiling when he prompted Baz with a bright: “What do you mean?”

“You stink.”

Simon breathed a laugh. “Okay, yeah…” he allowed, getting up. He paused on his way to the bathroom, “Wait for me, for breakfast…” 

Baz looked up, startled. “ _ What?” _

Simon grinned and shut the bathroom door on Baz's surprised face.

-

-

-

He brushed his teeth and took a shower; and he remembered to put a new bandage on his side. It was achy today and still looked red, angry. He frowned a little, probably because of all the running around yesterday. He would be more careful today, he decided. 

Baz wasn't in their room when he walked back out. He hadn't expected him to be – Simon found Baz in the dining hall, in the kitchen. 

_ Exactly  _ where he had expected him to be. 

It made him smile again. "You didn't wait for me." 

"That statement doesn't even merit a real response," Baz said. He was stirring something in a pot. It smelled like cinnamon. 

Simon made a beeline for the pantry, getting the tin of scones out. There were enough for today. He would have to leave Watford tomorrow. 

And for just a second, he thought of the Mage. It had been a couple of years since the Mage had come to collect him personally – and he doubted he would this year either. But for a second he wondered if the Mage would even remember to send  _ anyone  _ to get him, to take him somewhere. 

It made something uncomfortable twist in his stomach. 

" _ Now  _ what is it, Snow?" Baz snapped. 

Simon blinked. Baz was staring at him incredulously and he noticed how hard he was gripping the tip of scones, hard enough to leave indent the thin metal. 

"Nothing," Simon said quickly, "I'm going to miss the scones," he confessed. 

Baz rolled his eyes. "They have scones in London. That's where you're off to, isn't it?" 

Simon nodded, setting the tin down on the counter and opening it up. "Not like  _ these,  _ but yeah," he said, "London. Not always the same Home though," and found himself adding, "Depends where there's space," around a mouthful of scone. 

Baz made a face and turned back to the stove. Simon smiled at the back of his head. 

Baz hadn't put the tea on yet, so Simon did; munching a scone as he got the kettle and the cups out. 

He felt it when Baz glanced over at him; heard it when Baz very pointedly didn't say anything. Not about the talking with his mouth full or putting the tea on or having to go into a care-home over the summer. 

It was strange, the silence, the fact that he hadn't been told to leave yet, hadn't even really been insulted yet — it was… almost like a truce. The thought made him smile slightly. "What are you making?" He wondered. 

"My breakfast." 

"Your  _ proper  _ breakfast?" Simon joked. 

Baz gave him a quick, narrow-eyed glare before turning his gaze back to the stove.

Simon smiled again. "It smells good. I didn't know you could cook…" 

"This isn't cooking," Baz said with a frown.

"Okay, but don't you have servants or whatever?" 

Baz blew out an excessive sigh. "Please stop talking to me. I'm sure you need all your focus to boil water." 

Simon grinned. "Nah," he offered, bracing himself (he knew it was going to pull a this side) and hopping up to sit on the counter next to the stove. He remembered how much Baz had  _ loved _ that yesterday. "Pretty good at it, actually." 

"What did I tell you about this, Snow?" Baz snapped, eyeing him pointedly,. "There are chairs right there." 

"It looks like oatmeal," Simon peered into the pan, ignoring him, "Is it oatmeal?" He leaned in a little more, "Are those raisins? And – "

"Stop breathing on my food!" Baz huffed, turning himself sideways to block Simon from the stove. 

Simon smiled again, "Our food?" he said hopefully. 

"Definitely  _ not,"  _ Baz retorted. 

"I'm making  _ our  _ tea," Simon pointed out. 

"Well no one ever said you were bright."

Simon sighed, but he was still smiling a little. "You got all dressed today… don't wanna take a walk in the Wavering Wood?" He was wearing his posh slacks and shiny shoes. 

Baz slid a dark look towards him. "I blame you completely for everything that happened last night." 

_ Even the cuddling?  _ Simon almost asked, his mouth was open, the first  _ eh _ sound past his lips when his survival instincts kicked in (and Penny said he didn't have any!). 

He snapped his mouth shut. 

"But no, I do not," Baz continued, "My father's sending a car today. Apparently my stepmother keeps asking after me." 

_ Oh.  _ Simon deflated a little. Of course. "Right, yeah…" he breathed. 

Baz looked over at him. "They shut everything here down tomorrow, you know that right?" 

"I know." 

Baz continued to stare at him. "And? Have you talked to the Mage?" 

Simon shrugged a little. "He'll probably send someone tonight or tomorrow morning to get me. He usually does." 

"And if he doesn't?" 

"He will." 

"You haven't even heard from him, you don't even have a phone." 

Simon's good mood was slithering away. He tensed. "Because we're not supposed to have them," he said flatly. 

"Yeah, unless you need to get in touch with someone," Baz pointed out, his voice deceptively mild, "Before you're left alone on an empty campus without food or heat." 

"He'll send someone to get me or maybe he'll come himself," Simon insisted, frowning, "He's done that before." 

Baz rolled his eyes. "How magnanimous of him," he sneered. 

"Stop it!" Simon said, getting angry, "We were almost getting along! Don't – don't insult the Mage." 

"I'm surprised you could tell that was an insult," Baz noted, turning the heat off. He moved to get a bowl down. Then pointed out, "The water's boiling."

Simon glared at him, sliding off the counter. His side hurt when he landed on his feet and he remembered suddenly he was supposed to be taking medication. He'd have to remember when he got back to the room. 

The kitchen was quiet again as he started pouring the hot water — not quite as relaxed as earlier though. He took a breath, he could push past this, for the sake of their mini-truce. He faced Baz with a cup of tea ready for him, ready to bargain for a trade like yesterday  _ tea for oatmeal  _ — 

But Baz already looking at him. 

Baz had a bowl with a spoon in it in one hand and as Simon stared, he used his free one to reach for the cup Simon was holding. "There are phones in the teacher's offices," he told Simon, taking the cup of tea, "You should call your illustrious Mage.." 

Then he turned around and walked away. 

Simon was left with brows drawn together and his hand outstretched where he'd been holding the teacup. 

He stared for a long beat, taken off-guard; until he remembered his own tea was going to get cold. He sighed, turning to get it — and found that there was an another bowl and spoon out on the counter by the stove. 

He approached it, his frown fading a little. The pan was more than half full with oatmeal. 

Oatmeal with raisins 

– and walnuts!

He smiled as he served himself a bowl – this was definitely a trade. 

  
  


-

-

-

  
  


It was midday when Simon made his way back to Mummers House. There was a car outside the gates, long and black, a driver sitting patiently inside. 

Baz was folding school shirts when he walked in. 

"They're waiting for you outside," he told Baz, going to sit on his bed. 

"I'm aware." 

Simon smiled a little, ducking his head. "Are you excited about it?" He wondered, shifting to lean back on his bed. And he caught sight of the medicine bottle on his nightstand, an unopened bottled water next to it. He reached for it as he added, "Meeting your new sibling?"

"Not particularly," Baz answered. "I expect he'll be much like the others were: small and unremarkable." 

Simon rolled his eyes as he washed the pill down. "You must be excited to see them?" 

"Oh must I?" Baz echoed snidely, looking up from where he was zipping his back closed. "I was already coming here for most of the year when the oldest was born. I hardly know them." 

"But they're still your siblings, that counts for something doesn't it?" 

Baz blew out a breath. "I suppose," he allowed. "Did you call the Mage?" 

"I talk to Premal," Simon offered. "Penny's brother. Someone'll come get me in the morning…" he paused, shifting a little, "The Mage left instructions, I don't need to worry." It was exactly what Premal had said to him. 

"Maybe the Mage should give his instructions to  _ you,"  _ Baz pointed out. 

"He's busy, don't start," Simon said quickly and changed the subject, "Your stepmum must be happy." 

Baz glared at him for a beat. "Why do you keep asking about my family?" 

Simon shrugged. "I don't know. You never talk about them." 

"Not to  _ you,"  _ Baz snapped. "You're the Mage's Heir." 

"And your roommate," Simon countered firmly, "And we're on a truce. A mini truce." 

Baz rolled his eyes so hard it surprised Simon he didn't hurt his neck. "There is  _ no  _ truce, Snow." 

Simon shrugged again. "What's the new baby's name?"

"That's none of your business," Baz snapped. 

"Do you know?" Simon asked, smiling a little. 

"Of course I know!"

"Are you sure? Because it sounds like maybe you're not in the loop on the – "

"Everard Grimm," Baz interrupted. "Please shut up." 

Simon smiled a little. "Is it a family name?" 

"On Daphne's side," Baz answered. 

Daphne must be his stepmum. "You'll have a good time when you get there," Simon said confidently. He could tell, even if Baz didn't want him to, that he wasn't really upset about having to go home to house of little siblings.

Simon knew what Baz looked like when he was really upset. 

"Of course. I'm sure there'll be a pile of new electronics on my bed. To make up for having to continue sharing the Grimm inheritance," Baz said dryly.

He had finished putting everything away. Simon saw him give the room a cursory glance, making sure he hadn't left anything; his gaze flicking to the closed window for a second before continuing on.

Simon took a breath. "Thanks for your help yesterday. Even if we didn't find anything – "

"I told you  _ not  _ thank me," Baz cut him off. He slung his bags over one shoulder, "Do  _ not _ go poking around the Wavering Wood again. Like I said, I don't need you leading a dragon or a horde of trolls or whatever back here. I'm leaving some things in the closet. Don't mess anything up." 

Simon smiled at the instructions. "You got it. Have fun babysitting." 

Baz scowled, "Sod off." Then he turned towards the door and he was gone.

Simon was alone in their room. 

It felt like all the energy seeped right out of him as soon as Baz walked away. That was it — the official end of his sixth year at Watford. The official start of his summer. 

He swallowed hard, touching a hand to his hair, tugging at the curls for a moment. No time to think about it (no point in thinking about it). He stood and headed to the bathroom.

Time to cut his hair. 

Time to make his list and put it at the back of his mind. 

Time to start locking Watford away. 

  
  


-

-

-

  
  


It was hours and hours later – after the sun had set and he had changed into his sleeping clothes, after his hair was cut and his bags were packed, after he'd had sandwiches for supper and packed away all the leftover scones (no one would mind) – when he heard it. 

A small, tinkling  _ ding  _ in the room. It made him start.

And then the sound came again. 

By the window. 

It was closed, because of course Baz would make sure the window was closed when he left even though only Simon was going to be sleeping in the room tonight. 

He moved towards it and on the windowsill, the screen flashing as another tinkling  _ ding  _ sounded, was Baz's phone. 

_ Crowley.  _ Somehow this was going to be his fault, he thought, sighing as he reached for it. 

**[10:42 PM] Snow.**

**[10:42 PM] Do you know who this is? **

**[10:43 PM] Or do I need to spell it out for you?**

Simon bit his lip a little, moving back to his bed and sitting down on it: 

[10:46 PM]  _ Baz? _

**[10:49 PM] You left the window open**

**[10:49 PM] I had to close it **

[10:49 PM]  _ u didnt have to _

**[10:50 PM] And I left my phone.**

[10:51 PM]  _ that was careless _

**[10: 51 PM] fuck you.**

[10:51 PM] 🙂

[10:51 PM]  _ r u coming back 4 it?  _

[10:51 PM]  _ ur phone? _

[10:52 PM]  _ im getting picked up at 9 in the morning _

**[10:53 PM] No I am not going back for it**

**[10:53 PM] it's just a phone. I have a new one already**

**[10:53 PM] this one**

Simon rolled his eyes. Of course he did. 

[10:54 PM]  _ ok _

[10:54 PM]  _ wut do u want me to do with this one?  _

[10:55 PM]  _ leave it in the closet with ur other stuff?? _

**[10:55 PM] i want you to spell words appropriately. **

**[10:55 PM] is what I want. **

[10:55 PM]  _ wut?  _

[10:55 PM] 😉

Baz didn't respond and Simon huffed a soft laugh in the quiet room.

He could picture Baz’s face all pinched and put-out; he was so tense so much of the time it was a wonder he didn't snap. He stretched out on his bed and yawned a little, adding: 

[11:03 PM]  _ i'll leave the phone in the closet.  _

[11:03 PM]  _ better? _

His was starting to drift off when the phone _dinged _again. 

**[11:09 PM] keep it**

[11:10 PM]  _ keep what? _

**[11:10 PM]** **the phone, snow. **

**[11:10 PM] take it with you. **

**[11:11 PM] i don't need it anymore. **

**[11:12 PM] the charger's in the top closet drawer.**

Simon frowned, confused. He propped himself up on one elbow so it would be easier to text.

[11:14 PM]  _ keep ur phone??? _

**[11:14 PM] keep that phone**

**[11:15 PM] I have my phone**

**[11:15 PM] I'm using it now**

**[11:15 PM] clearly.**

Simon stared at the text messages, still frowning. Baz was giving him his phone? Even if he had a new one… had Baz ever given him anything? 

Besides bruises and death threats? 

It tinkled softly in his hands again: 

**[11:26 PM] or don’t keep it**

**[11:26 PM] do whatever you want.**

– and a phone, apparently.

Simon licked his lips a little, considering. The Mage probably wouldn’t like it. 

But the Mage wasn’t here. 

The Mage wasn't even going to pick him up. 

[11:29 PM]  _ ok  _

[11:30 PM] _thank u_ _ ???? _

**[11:32 PM]** **don't**

Simon smiled at the phone, something happy welling up inside him. He wasn’t really sure what was happening – were he and Baz really exchanging relatively  _ nice  _ text messages? 

There was only one explanation for this:

[11:38 PM]  _ soooooo…. truce????? _

[11:38 PM] 😌

**[11:41 PM] no. **

**[11:41 PM] there is no truce.**

[11:41 PM]  _ mini truce _

[11:42 PM] 

Simon smiled at the phone again, locking the screen after he sent the mini sign. He waited for a beat to see if Baz would respond and then got up to open the window before settling back into the bed. 

  
  


-

-

-

That night, he took the charger from Baz’s closet and plugged it in. He added Baz’s new number to it and changed the wallpaper, fiddled around with the games for a bit, with some of the other settings. 

There weren’t many other numbers in the phone. 

Baz’s Dad. His stepmum. His aunt Fiona. Dev. Niall. 

No one that Simon would ever call. He wondered abruptly if Baz could get Penny’s phone number. 

Maybe he would ask him tomorrow. That was something he could do now… text Baz. He wasn't sure how that would work, with his list of things to not think about, but he was tired enough and happy enough that he could let himself worry about it tomorrow. 

He was half-asleep, the phone charging on the bedside table, when he heard it ding softly. He was smiling even before he looked at it:

**[12:19 PM] no**

**[12:19 PM]** 🖕

  
  
-

-

-

**.end of part I.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Part II : Hampshire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll are still with me! :) 
> 
> A lot of text conversations in this one... 
> 
> **Bold** = Baz  
_Italics_ = Simon

**BAZ**

  
  


It felt like he was being cracked open when it happened. 

When Simon Snow had blinked hazily, his infuriatingly average blue eyes glazed with fever, and told him it was  _ okay.  _

That he would fight the Humdrum and save the World of Mages for everyone else, like he wasn’t a part of it, like he was  _ fine  _ dying for it, for the rest of them. 

It had felt like he was going to sink and suffocate and shrivel into nothing but absolute  _ love  _ for the terror of a boy in front of him. 

What else could he have done but what he did? But watch him fall asleep and try to keep him cool and not think about how  _ idiotic  _ he was; how offensively noble and  _ good.  _ It was  _ disgusting.  _

Snow had been right; alarmingly perceptive for once. Normally.  _ Usually.  _ He would have left Watford by then. But the morning of the day he was supposed to have left, Simon Snow had almost bled out in full view of the football pitch. 

Idiot. 

Snow would be fine. He was always fine. The commotion had been absurd. 

But then it had spread from person to person, through the yard, whispered and surprised:  _ magic’s not healing him.  _

And Baz couldn’t leave then. Obviously. 

He couldn’t leave when he  _ saw _ Snow either. Pale and passing out in the middle of a conversation. 

Or when Bunce (rightly) pointed out that he was heading out into the Normal world for weeks with a wound and blood loss and no one who would know. 

And then. 

_ Then.  _

Baz shifted on his bed, squeezing his eyes shut. He could still feel how Snow’s magic had folded over him – so warm, so insanely safe in that whirlwind of wind and rain. Lightning had cracked that tree branch right in half, both chunks falling to the ground right where he’d been standing. 

It wouldn’t have killed him (he didn’t think) (it probably wasn’t that easy to kill a vampire), but it would have hurt. Possibly – quite a bit. 

_ “I just saved your life…”  _ the idiot had said, like that was something to be proud of, something  _ worthy  _ he had done. 

Baz opened his eyes to stare down at the phone in his hand. It had been an indulgence (like staying behind, like watching him sleep, like running fingers through his hair). 

He had left Snow his phone. Because — 

He clenched his jaw, staring at the last messages:  _ mini truce  _ and that obnoxious emoji. 

— because it had been obvious Snow was still hurting, even after Baz had cast his own healing magic at him. 

The scratches from the tree had healed, but Snow had still been wincing in the kitchen, had still been favoring his side. 

— because he was going out into the normal world with a wound and no one who knew; no one who would care.

Baz was usually better at quelling his impulses. 

— because every extra minute he spent in Simon Snow’s presence fissured his control, his discipline.

He waited for the regret to sink in. 

— because there wasn’t any Magic in the World of Mages that could undo falling in love with Simon Snow. 

It didn’t. 

The fissures had widened into cracks and he had no way to stop himself now – he typed out a response, adding his own obnoxious emoji.

And then practically hurled his brand new phone across the bed, covering it with a pillow, and rolling away from it. 

Baz squeezed his eyes shut again and didn’t think about how his heart would be pounding if he were really alive. About how alive Simon Snow was, even miles and miles away it felt like Baz couldn’t escape it. All he had to do was close his eyes and there it was — Simon Snow with a sword in his hand, the sun casting a halo of light around his bronze curls, constellations of moles and freckles dappled across his skin and those devastatingly average blues eyes bright and glowing with warmth. 

Baz fell asleep like that, he was never going to escape it. 

(he didn’t want to escape it)

  
  


-

-

-

It was two days later when his phone buzzed, screen lighting up with a message from  _ chosen terror.  _

[2:23 PM]  _ hey do u kno Penny’s number? _

He stared at it for a beat, taking a breath (don’t reply, don’t reply, don’t reply):

**[2:26 PM]** **who is this?**

[2:26 PM]  _ don’t be a prat _

[2:26 PM]  _ it’s Simon _

[2:30 PM]  _ Snow _

**[2:30 PM]** **ah **

**[2:30 PM] Chosen One**

**[2:30 PM] right**

**[2:30 PM] you’re texting me because ??**

[2:31 PM]  _ do u have Penny’s number? _

**[2:31 PM] Who?**

[2:32 PM]  _ Baz come on  _

[2:32 PM]  _ u know who penny is _

[2:35 PM]  _ she’s # 1 in our class _

**[2:35 PM]** **she is not**

[2:35 PM]  _ see _

[2:35 PM]  _ u kno who she is _

[2:36 PM]  _ do u have her number? _

**[2:39 PM] no**

**[2:39 PM]** **how do you not have it?**

[2:42 PM]  _ never really needed it before now _

Baz stared at that, frowning. Before he could question it though, Simon continued. 

[2:44 PM]  _ could u get it _

**[2:45 PM]** **i’m not your errand boy snow**

[2:45PM]  _ think of our truce  _

**[2:46 PM]** **the nonexistant one?**

[2:46 PM]  _ yea  _ 😊

Baz knew he was smiling, but he couldn’t stop it. Snow was a nightmare. 

[2:48 PM]  **piss off**

[2:48 PM]  _ ok so ull let me know then _

[2:48 PM]  _ about penn’s number _

[2:49 PM] 😎

“What are you doing?” 

Mordelia’s question snapped him back into the present so hard he almost jumped. She was standing just inside the doorway to the library where Baz was currently hiding away. 

“None of your business, bug,” he retorted mildly, “Don’t you have a nanny to terrorize.” 

She moved further into the room. “Isoline and Asenath have that covered,” she said, “You were smiling,” she said accusingly. 

“I was not.” Baz frowned at her, “Go away. I’m busy.” 

She ignored him; climbed right up onto the sofa next to him. Mordelia was the worst of his little sisters; as the oldest of the girls she had gotten it into her head at some point that as the two eldest they were equals of some kind. 

Baz found the audacity off-putting; but her stubborn determination to enforce this presumption difficult to dismiss. 

“No you’re not. It’s summer vacation,” she pointed out, “You’re supposed to be spending time with your family,” she gave him a pointed look, “That’s me.” 

“I have summer reading, which I’m doing, right now.” 

“You were smiling at your phone,” she insisted. “Was it your  _ girlfriend?”  _ She asked with a smirk. 

“You are seven years old,” he said stiffly, “What would you know about that?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Plenty. I had a boyfriend this year, but then I saw him take a fruit cup from Alexis and I had to end it.” 

Baz stared at her. 

“And I’ve seen movies, obviously,” she continued. “So? Was it? Your girlfriend?” 

“ _ No,”  _ he said flatly. 

“But – ”

“Is there a point to you being here?” He interrupted. 

She frowned at him. “Father wants to see you,” she told him finally. “It’s probably because it’s been days and you haven’t even held him yet.” 

_ Oh.  _ “Hm?” Baz hummed, glancing down at his book. 

“Our new brother.” 

“Everard.” 

Mordelia rolled her eyes, “Are you jealous because I have another brother now?” She wondered, scooting closer to him. “You’re still my favorite, Basil.” 

“I’m so relieved,” he said dryly, closing his book. 

“How come you haven’t held him yet?” 

“I didn’t hold you until you were a year old.” 

“That’s not true.” Mordelia beamed at him, “I saw a picture. I was very small and you had a  _ bad  _ haircut then.” 

“Get out,” he said, pushing her (gently) off the sofa. “Tell father I’ll be right there.” 

Mordelia sighed dramatically. “Don’t take too long. He’ll send the twins next.” 

Baz rolled his eyes, watching her leave the room before pushing to his feet. The twins were turning five this summer. There would likely be a party, there always was. He wasn't looking forward to it. 

His father had done well for himself with his second family. Daphne was a nice enough (too nice) and powerful enough (not powerful enough) that it was all perfectly acceptable. They had always included him to such an extreme that in his darker moments he wanted to snarl at them with his fangs and remind them he was a Pitch and Vampire and he wasn't truly a part of their bucolic family portrait. 

He never did though. 

Daphne had already been engaged to be married to his father when he had met her. On that day, she had reached out and taken one of his hands between both of hers and had said with complete sincerity:  _ I’m so glad to become your family Basilton.  _ He had snatched his hand back and frowned at her and she had returned a small, gentle smile. She had spent every single day since behaving as if those words were true. 

Daphne was immeasurably gentle, unfailingly kind, and Baz wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw himself a monster in her eyes too. 

He stopped at the door to his father’s office. 

His father would want to reassure him of his place in the family (he did so after the birth of each of his other children); would want to check in on his progress at Watford (despite the bi-weekly reports he received); would want to carefully (oh so carefully) probe about anything  _ new  _ (vampiric) that might have come up in the last year. 

Baz was already weary of the conversation. A quick glance at his phone showed that Snow hadn’t sent anything else and he couldn’t help but wonder if Snow was settled in, in London already (if he was okay, if he’d remembered the meds he had to take, if he’d eaten enough, had enough water?)

Baz scowled at the door before giving a quick, sharp knock — he disgusted himself. 

  
  


-

-

-

It was hours later and there was still nothing new from Snow. 

Which was fine. 

He hadn’t expected Snow to reach out much anyway (though he had hoped). 

Now that the line of communication had been opened though, he couldn’t stop glancing at his phone, expecting more, wanting more, missing more. 

(nothing new really)

He was in the nursery, with the twins and the new baby (and their nanny), because it would soothe his stepmother’s worries if he sat here for a while. 

And it was as good a place as any to stare at his phone and wonder what Simon Snow was doing. 

Baz pressed his lips together. He shouldn’t do it. It would be nutter, a completely daft thing to do — to text Simon Snow (don’t text him, don’t text him, don’t text him).

**[5:48 PM] it'll take me a few days**

**[5:48 PM] to get the number**

[5:51 PM] _that's ok! _

**[5:51 PM] why don't you just ask her brother**

[5:51 PM]  _ i dont have his number either  _

**[5:52 PM] you said you talked to him**

[5:52 PM]  _ oh  _

[5:55 PM]  _ but  _

[5:55 PM]  _ i called the mage _

**[5:55 PM]** **and what? **

**[5:56 PM]** **boy bunce is his secretary?**

[5:58 PM]  _ call got forwarded _

Baz pressed his lips pressed together tightly, the Mage was shit on so many levels. 

**[6:01 PM] where are you?**

[6:01 PM]  _ london _

[6:02 PM]  _ remember ?? _

**[6:02 PM] anyplace specific or just a gutter somewhere**

[6:05 PM]  _ is this u plotting to murder me in the normal world ?? _

**[6:05 PM]** **don’t know how it didn’t occur to me sooner**

[6:06 PM]  _ better ideas now that ur aging _

**[6:06 PM] we’re the same age**

[6:06 PM]  _ i can have better ideas too _

**[6:07 PM] doubtful **

[6:07 PM]  _ mini truce  _

Baz huffed,  _ almost  _ a soft laugh, crowley this idiot. 

**[6:09 PM]** **is proof you can't**

[6:10 PM]  _ we'll seeeeeeeee _

Would they see? Baz thought, his face flushing a little with the rabbit blood he had had earlier. He stared at the phone, fingers hovering over the screen. What did that even mean? Was Snow going to keep messaging him? 

Almost as if in answer, his phone’s screen lit up in his hands.

[6:16 PM]  _ how's the baby? _

[6:16 PM]  _ did you have a party?  _

[6:16 PM]  _ how do you celebrate a new baby???? _

The rapidfire texts made Baz's brows lift and he pressed his lips together in a tight, straight line – to stop himself from smiling even a little. It was too easy to picture Simon, head bent over the phone, blue eyes fixed on the screen. 

**[6:20 PM] it’s small and occasionally very loud**

**[6:20 PM] luckily my room is far from the nursery **

[6:23 PM]  _ it must be nice to be home tho _

**[6:25 PM] it’s ok **

**[6:25 PM] i spend more time at watford **

[6:25 PM]  _ but seeing your family _

His family was a subject he didn’t like to discuss. And one Snow seemed to hit on too frequently lately. 

**[6:31 PM] yeah**

[6:38 PM]  _ obvs i’d rather b at watford _

[6:38 PM]  _ but not u _

**[6:40 PM]** **what does that even mean? **

**[6:40 PM] can you please use actual words **

[6:40 PM]  _ i am  _

[6:41 PM]  _ ?? _

**[6:41 PM] complete words**

[6:41 PM]  _ im using words _

[6:42 PM]  _ completely _

**[6:42 PM] no wonder you failed magikal expressions**

[6:43 PM]  _ wow  _

[6:43 PM]  _ rude  _

[6:43 PM]  _ i passed it tho  _

**[6:44 PM]** **did you?**

[6:45 PM] yea  _ i did extra credit  _

**[6:45 PM]** **you must mean bunce did extra credit**

[6:47 PM]  _ penny helped a little _

Baz smirked a little, fingers moving quickly.

**[6:47 PM]** **understatement, i’m sure**

[6:49 PM]  _ ok a lot _

[6:49 PM]  _ penny helped a lot _

**[6:49 PM]** **i know you snow**

His thumb had already sent the words before it registered in Baz’s brain. He stilled, swallowing hard. 

Waiting. 

Dots bounced at the bottom of the chat, indicating Simon was writing something. 

[6:55 PM]  _ yea  _

[6:55 PM]  _ it seems like it _

[6:55 PM]  _ and u kno y _

Baz’s lips quirked upwards immediately, this muppet - 

[6:55 PM]  **don’t **

[6:55 PM]  _ because _

[6:55 PM]  **snow **

[6:55PM]  _ of _

[6:56 PM]  _ our  _

[6:56 PM]  **don’t **

[6:56 PM]  _ mini truce  _

[6:56 PM]  _ !!! _

**[6:56 PM]** **shut up snow **

[6:57 PM]  _ r u allowed to say that when u cant hear me _

**[6:57 PM] yes**

**[6:59 PM] i didn’t say i would rather be at watford**

**[7:00 PM] but i do excel there **

[7:00 PM]  _ i mean thats not the right word  _

[7:00 PM]  _ but ok _

**[7:01 PM]** **it is absolutely the right word**

[7:01 PM]  _ u r absolutely full of shit _

**[7:03 PM]** **wow **

**[7:03 PM] rude **

[7:03 PM]  _ omg  _

[7:03 PM]  _ ur actually funny _

Baz frowned at the phone a little. 

[7:06 PM]  _ i meant that in a good way  _

[7:06 PM]  _ not in a  _

[7:06 PM]  _ bad  _

[7:06 PM]  _ way _

[7:12 PM]  _ just you’re different like this _

Baz’s frown deepened. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing for Snow to pick up on. Was he being too soft? Was he giving himself away? 

[7:15 PM]  _ good different  _

[7:32 PM]  _ sorry.  _

[7:32 PM]  _ don’t stop ok?? _

[7:32 PM]  _ baz? _

[7:35 PM]  _ i used complete words _

**[7:40 PM]** **shocking**

**[7:40 PM] i’ll pencil in the parade**

He locked the phone and put it away quickly. It felt vaguely like running away and he prided himself on never backing down from Snow — but this was different, this was too close. He was sitting in his siblings nursery, legs tucked under himself on a settee dotted with  _ lambs.  _ It was too personal. 

He swallowed hard when he felt the phone buzz in his pocket a beat later, but he didn’t look. 

Instead he pushed to his feet and decided an evening session with his violin was in order. He managed to keep himself from looking at his phone the entire time. 

(and if he remained hyper aware of the fact that it hadn’t buzzed again, so what?) 

Baz kept the screen dark on his phone until after he had dressed for bed and then he finally,  _ finally _ , let himself break.

[7:42 PM]  _ i’ll check my calendar  _

The words made him smirk a little and he rubbed a thumb lightly over the words — such an idiot.

  
  


-

-

-

  
  


[8:12 AM]  _ do u think coffee can stain a wall?  _

**[8:15 AM] yes**

**[8:15 AM] obviously. **

**[8:27 AM] why?**

[8:30 AM]  _ ok _

[8:30 AM]  _ and how would u get the stain out?  _

[8:31 AM]  _ asking 4 a friend _

**[8:31 AM] how would i kno? **

**[8:31 AM] i don’t go around staining walls with coffee**

**[8:35 AM] what did you do?**

**[8:46 AM] snow? **

**[8:52 AM] my housekeeper says to use a spray cleaner on it and let it set for a few minutes**

**[8:52 AM] then scrub it with a brush gently**

**[8:52 AM] and dry it off with a towel**

[9:08 AM]  _ omg _

[9:08 AM]  _ that worked _

[9:08 AM]  _ !!! _

[9:13 AM]  _ ur housekeeper is a genius _

[9:13 AM]  _ also of course u have a housekeeper _

[9:13 AM]  _ mr.  _ 💰💰💰

**[9:15 AM] again, obviously**

**[9:15 AM] why are you staining walls with coffee?**

[9:22 AM]  _ the espresso machine hates me _

**[9:22 AM] where are you?**

[9:38 AM]  _ at work  _

[9:38 AM]  _ gotta go actually  _

[9:38 AM]  _ thank uuuuuuuuu  _

-

-

-

[6:43 AM]  _ there r free lizards _

[6:43 AM]  _ on the corner _

**[6:51 AM]** **what?**

**[6:51 AM] do you realize what time it is?**

[6:52 AM]  _ of where i work _

[6:52 AM]  _ free lizards _

[6:52 AM]  _ its a vet next door _

[6:52 AM]  _ i think sometimes ppl leave animals there _

_ _

[6:55 AM]  _ i wish i could get 1 _

_ _

**[7:03 AM]** **it’s seven in the morning snow**

**[7:06 AM] ** **why would you want a lizard?**

[7:09 AM]  _ as a pet _

[7:09 AM]  _ i’ve never had one _

[7:09 AM]  _ a pet _

_ _

**[7:11 AM] ** **you want a pet lizard**

_ _

[7:11 AM]  _ do u have a pet? _

_ _

**[7:11 AM] ** **you killed a dragon**

**[7:11 AM] ** **but you want a pet lizard**

Baz frowned a little when a few minutes went by without a response, resting his head back on his pillow. They had been texting back and forth for a few days now — rapidfire conversations without purpose that were both absolute torture and a divine gift; to him anyway, he was pretty sure Snow just messaged him when he was bored. Or panicked over the destruction of property. 

He had learned that Snow worked at a coffee shop almost every day, that someone had stolen a pair of his socks, that he buzzed his hair every four days or so, that he shared a room with at least two other boys, that the bus hardly ever actually stopped at the bus stop near him… a dozen or more meaningless facts that he slid into a mental catalog and flipped through at night.

Because he liked to torment himself. 

Baz let his eyes close when no message slid onto his screen. He had learned that it was hard to judge timing when Snow was at work, sometimes the responses were immediate, other times an hour or two would go by. He could sleep for another hour…

He had just started to doze off again when the phone buzzed in his hand:

[7:23 AM]  _ i didn’t mean to do that _

[7:23 AM]  _ i really really didn’t mean to. i didn’t even kno dragons were real until then. _

[7:23 AM]  _ and  _ _ i didn’t want to kill it _

[7:23 AM]  _ i kno you probably don’t believe me but its true. i didn’t want that to happen. i was scared and i thought it was going to attack Watford but i didn’t want to kill it _

_ _

[7:25 AM]  _ anyway its ok i cant really get a lizard anyway _

[7:25 AM]  _ they r safe from me _

Baz stared at the string of texts, frozen, his stomach twisting. He was wide awake now - could remember vividly the look on Snow’s face when that dragon had gone up in flames (and how had it taken him so many years to realize he was in love with that idiot? Even then he had been obsessed with Snow’s face). 

He had looked horrified, sick, terrified; and Baz had mocked him for it, shouted at him – that he was a time bomb, a terror, that he should be locked up, that the world needed to be protected from him.

Baz swallowed hard. They had been eleven years old.

**[7:29 AM] ** **i believe you**

**[7:30 AM] you should get the lizard if you want it**

[7:31 AM]  _ nah dont rlly have anyplace to put a lizard _

[7:31 AM]  _ besides my pocket  _

Baz blew out a breath, covering his eyes with one hand. 

Right. 

Because Snow was living with a bunch of other people in a care home. Sharing a room with two or more boys that weren’t Baz. Baz pressed his lips together and did something stupid —

**[7:35 AM] ** **there’s a cat**

**[7:35 AM] ** **i guess you could say he is a family cat**

[7:35 AM]  _ U HAVE A CAT _

[7:35 AM]  _ !!!!  _ _ what kind of cat _

_ _

**[7:36 AM] ** **the black kind**

[7:36 AM]  _ of course _

_ _

It was so easy to picture Snow’s blue eyes wide with amusement. It was an expression he wore around Penny a lot, never around him though. Except… this was  _ kind of  _ around him, wasn’t it? Baz smiled a little. 

**[7:36 AM] ** **yes**

**[7:36 AM] ** **of course**

-

-

-

**[11:08 PM] 01935471541**

[11:19 PM]  _ is that  _

[11:19 PM]  _ ????? _

**[11:19 PM]** **yes**

[11:20 PM]  😃😃😃

[11:20 PM]  _ ill tell her u said hi _

**[11:21 PM] ** **please do not mention me **

**[11:21 PM] ** **at all **

[11:21 PM]  _ our mini truce tho _

[11:22 PM]  🍿

**[11:22 PM] ** **no**

**[11:22 PM] ** **also what is that?**

[11:23 PM]  _ our  _ _ truce symbol  _

[11:23 PM]  _ no crisps  _

[11:23 PM]  _ so consider it salt and vinegar popcorn _

**[11:23 PM] ** **no**

**[11:23 PM] ** **no i will not**

[11:23 PM] **🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿**

**[11:23 PM] ** **stop **

[11:23 PM] **🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿**

**[11:23 PM] ** **snow**

[11:23 PM]  **🍿🍿🍿**

**[11:23 PM] ** **cease**

[11:23 PM]  _ goodnight _

[11:23 PM] 🍿

  
  


-

-

-

It had been almost forty-eight hours since Snow had sent him a message. Not that Baz was keeping track. It was likely that he had gotten in touch with Bunce. He had someone else to talk to now. 

The thought left something bitter on his tongue and a bad mood in his blood. 

“What’s got you looking like someone put piss in your porridge?” 

Baz started a little, looking up from his plate as Fiona strode into the library. “Oh great, you,” he said dryly, lips quirking just slightly at the corners as he closed the book he had been reading while having his lunch. 

“Yes, me.” She sat down next to him on the sofa, leaning into his space to take one of the pickles off of his plate. “Nephew.” 

Baz rolled his eyes. “I called you when I got here.” 

“You sent a text.” 

“Served the same purpose.” 

“From a different phone.” 

“I don’t see the problem.” 

“It could have been anyone.” 

“Is that why it took you two weeks to get here?” 

“I didn’t know you were timing me, boyo. Should’a mentioned it.”

Baz narrowed his eyes. “I did mention I was going insane here surrounded by babies, didn’t I?”

“They do seem to keep multiplying.” 

“I don’t think I can take the whole summer,” he said evenly. 

“Is this you angling to come stay with me?” Fiona asked, arching her brows, “Because I can’t babysit. I have a fucked up schedule and shit to do.” 

Baz scowled. “I do not need a  _ babysitter.”  _

“I don’t know. Teenagers are trouble.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I,” Fiona eyed him for a moment. “I have our usual two weeks blocked out. Why the rush?”

“It’s not a rush. There’s only so many times I can go to the club and be pestered by toddlers...”

Fiona eyed him suspiciously. “And this is only suddenly unbearable this year?” 

“It’s unbearable  _ every  _ year, but I don’t need your supervision this year – father should allow it.” 

“Ah I see. And who’s going to propose this plan to Malcolm?” 

“I don’t see why it has to be proposed,” Baz said after a beat. “It can just be done. I’m hardly a child.”

“Oh is that where we are in your life cycle - the  _ hardly a child  _ stage. Good to know.” Fiona stole one of his tomatoes next. He hadn’t taken a single bite since she walked in, the point of eating away from others was to not be  _ seen. _

“I’ll be sixteen by the end of this year,” he said. 

She widened her eyes. “No shit. I’m three years behind.”

“Piss off.”

“And you want me to welcome you into my home with that attitude?”

“Your flat is empty ninety percent of the time.”

“How is that an incentive to have you spend the summer with me?”

Baz rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to  _ spend the summer with you,” _ he said mockingly, “I just need to get away from here for a while.”

Fiona eyed him. “Why’s that?” She asked mildly. 

“Are you not listening to me?”

“Not until you say something interesting,” she shot back. 

“I want to be in London and not here,” Baz snapped back. 

She stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing. “Interesting, but not convincing enough.” 

He scowled at her. “Go away then,” he snapped. 

“We’re going out,” she retorted. “I came to spend the day with you.” 

“You should have called ahead. I’m busy,” he said and turned his attention back to his book. 

“He’s  _ busy  _ he says,” Fiona complained, “As though I give a shit.” She reached over and snatched his book. “We’re going out, come along nephew.” 

“ _ Fiona,”  _ he growled, reaching for it. 

She held it up and away, smirking, delighted. “That’s the spirit.” 

-

-

-

  
  


[3:37 PM]  _ pennys away _

[3:37 PM]  _ research trip w her dad  _

Baz was at the club with Dev when it came in. He didn’t see it until they were on their way off the tennis courts an hour later and headed towards the showers. 

Immediately everything else around Baz faded out and only his phone and the freckled terror of a boy at the other end of the line existed. 

It was distressingly pathetic. 

**[4:28 PM] bunce is enterprising**

**[4:28 PM] how did you acquire this information then?**

“Baz,” Dev snapped at him, actually reaching out to pull him back from where he almost walked right into a waiter – who quickly apologized and gave Baz a curious look. 

Baz arched one eyebrow and stared him down. 

And as soon as the waiter was out of sight, he blew out a breath, glancing at his phone quickly - no response yet.

“What is up with you?” Dev asked, frowning. 

“Nothing,” Baz said quickly looking up, then immediately, “What?” 

“You’re being weird.” He said flatly. 

“I am not.”

“Yeah you are,” Dev insisted as they turned the hall towards the locker rooms. “Your head wasn’t in the game.”

“And I  _ still  _ won.” 

“Not the point I’m making,” Dev said dryly. 

“You’re not making any point,” Baz noted, his voice an octave drier than his cousin’s. 

Dev rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t fess up then.” 

“There is nothing to  _ fess up,” _ Baz said a touch scathingly now. “Why don’t you give your backspin this much attention.” 

“Piss off, my backspin doesn’t need it.”

“Neither do I.” 

He glanced at his phone - there were messages. 

[4:29 PM]  _ it’s in her vm _

[4:29 PM]  _ and i kind of remember her mentioning it _

[4:33 PM]  _ her dad studies the dead spots _

“Hm-hm,” Dev hummed, moving past him into the changing room. Baz ignored him in favor of moving towards the changing rooms himself, his gaze on the screen, fingers keying in a simple response.

**[4:35 PM] ah**

He forced himself to take a shower and get back into his clothes before sending another text (and what did it matter if he hurried to finish). 

**[4:50 PM]** **did her voicemail say when she’ll be back?**

[4:51 PM]  _ not until august  _

**[4:51 PM]** **informative voicemail**

[4:51 PM]  _ yeah _

“I’m heading home,” Dev said, pushing past him where Baz had stalled at the locker. “Let me know when you’re done tooling around on your mobile.”

“Piss off.”

“Nice spending time with you too, cuz,” Dev replied, shouldering his bag and heading out. 

Baz spared a second to scowl at Dev’s retreating form, but turned his attention back to his phone almost immediately. 

**[4:54 PM] so**

**[4:54 PM] you’ll talk to her in august then**

[4:58 PM]  _ yeah _

His disappointment was almost palpable to Baz. After days of Snow’s nonsensical texting style, he could see it so clearly - the fully spelled out words, the lack of emojis, the minutes between responses. He pressed his lips together, the sudden silence hadn’t been Snow not needing to talk to him. It had been  _ disappointment. _

Snow was  _ sad.  _

It made something clench in his chest. 

He sat on one of the benches. 

**[5:01 PM] why don’t you text wellbelove**

He had avoided the subject of Snow’s on and off again girlfriend as best he could. He was suffering enough this summer. 

[5:11 PM]  _ dont have her number either _

[5:11 PM]  _ and i dont think aggie wants to hear from me _

[5:11 PM]  _ and i dont want to talk about her with you _

Baz pressed his lips together, it was so easy to see in his mind’s eye the way Snow’s chin would jut out and his eyes would narrow at a string of statements like that. 

It was an almost pavlovian response in him.

**[5:11 PM] touchy**

[5:11 PM]  _ don’t be a tosser _

**[5:11 PM] don’t be a numpty**

There was no response for a long beat and Baz frowned, it was hardly the worst thing he had ever said to Snow. 

[5:27 PM]  _ baz _

[5:27 PM]  _ let’s not talk about aggie ok _

And this was the perfect moment, the moment to say it:  ** _let's not talk at all. _ **

It was right there for him to write out, to end this before the suffering could continue, could expand and grow and consume him whole.

But when had he been opposed to suffering? Especially when it came to Simon Snow.

**[5:32 PM]** **like i would want to**

**[5:32 PM] just giving you options outside of bunce**

Another long beat; long enough for Baz to realize he was sitting in one of the changing rooms at the club, just staring at his phone. Like a truly pathetic specimen— 

[5:39 PM] _u mean like u _

[5:39 PM] 🍿

— and it was entirely worth it. His mouth quirked up a little. 

**[5:39 PM] not like me **

**[5:39 PM] feel free to stop texting me**

[5:40 PM]  _ but idek wut ur cats name is _

**[5:40 PM] it’s not MY cat**

[5:40 PM]  _ lol _

[5:40 PM]  _ sure _

And the small quirk turned into a small, barely there smile as he keyed in:

**[5:40 PM] go play in traffic **

He tucked the phone into his pocket without looking at it, even when it buzzed. He waited until he had made it all the way home before finally glancing at it.

[5:41 PM] 🍿

  
  


-

-

-

[12:39 AM] _ wuts ur cat’s name? _

_ _

**[12:52 AM] ** **it’s 1 am **

[12:52 AM]  _ weird name _

**[12:52 AM] snow**

[12:52 AM]  _ lol  _

[12:53 AM]  _ just wondering _

**[12:53 AM] at 1 in the morning??**

[12:53 AM]  _ ur awake too _

**[12:53 AM] a text woke me up**

[12:54 AM]  _ oh _

[12:54 AM]  _ shit sorry _

[12:54 AM]  _ thought u’d still be up _

[12:56 AM]  **why would you think that?**

[12:58 AM]  _ ur out late at watford  _

[12:58 AM]  _ at night  _

[12:59 AM]  _ usually _

Baz tensed. Snow hadn’t brought up Baz’s nighttime activities (or the word vampire) since he had started throwing around the words  _ mini truce.  _ He teased about a bloodthirsty bat once and whether Baz had a collection  _ Blade  _ movies in his medieval library — but nothing outright, nothing vicious or angry or disgusted— 

[1:03 AM]  _ not at home tho? _

—nothing like an accusation. It was the type of question Snow asked a lot of, like he was interested in Baz’s daily life, like he cared. 

**[1:05 AM] not usually**

**[1:05 AM] i go to bed at a proper hour like a normal person**

**[1:05 AM] and don’t obsess over other people’s family pets**

[1:05 AM] _so wuts the cat’s name????_

**[1:05 AM] go to sleep, snow**

[1:05 AM]  _ come on pls _

[1:06 AM] 🍿🍿

**[1:06 PM] ** **stop**

[1:07 AM]  🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿

**[1:07 AM] ** **snow. **

[1:07 AM]  _ i can’t sleep _

**[1:07 AM]** **i don’t see how that’s my problem**

[1:09 AM]  _ is it hunter? _

[1:09 AM]  _ tiger _

[1:11 AM]  _ blade _

[1:12 AM]  _ is it dracula? _

[1:12 AM]  _ Count von count _

**[1:13 AM]** **i will track this phone and murder you**

[1:15 AM]  _ count chocula  _

**[1:15 AM] fuck you**

[1:17 AM]  🍿

**[1:17 AM] ** **go to fucking sleep before i send an assassin to end you**

[1:19 AM]  _ cant _

[1:19 AM]  _ i tried _

Baz sighed, closing his eyes a little. How was he supposed to help with this? It was no secret that Snow had nightmares (they both did). He didn’t usually intervene when they were in the same room, what was he supposed to do miles and miles away?

[1:25 AM]  _ think im too wired _

Maybe just this — this was all he could do.

**[1:32 AM] ** **why?**

[1:36 AM]  _ there was a thing today _

[1:36 AM]  _ its fine now but its hard to turn it off ya kno _

Baz blinked, pushing himself up in his bed a little. 

**[1:36 AM] ** **did you go off???**

[1:38 AM]  _ no no nothing like that _

[1:38 AM]  _ i dont think about magic out here  _

Baz frowned, not sure what that even meant let alone how to address it. How could Simon Snow not think about magic? He  _ was  _ magic. 

**[1:40 AM]** **what then?**

[1:40 AM]  _ there’s a new kid and he doesn’t really know the rules  _

[1:40 AM]  _ and some people can be prats _

[1:42 AM]  _ it’s fine now  _

Baz swallowed hard, letting that sink in for a beat. Everyone’s hero, he thought again and something clenched in his chest (love, impossible absolutely fatal love). 

**[1:48 AM]** **the cat is called ****paddington**

[1:48 AM] _NO_

[1:48 AM]  _ WAY _

[1:48 AM]  _ PADDINGTON _

[1:49 AM]  _ ???? _

_ _

**[1:49 AM] ** **mordelia named it**

**[1:50 AM] ** **when she was 2**

**[1:50 AM] ** **its embarrassment to us all**

**[1:50 AM] ** **now go to sleep, snow**

[1:51 AM]  _ PADDINGTON _

[1:51 AM] like the BEAR

[1:53 AM]  _ omg _

**[1:53 AM]** **goodnight snow**

-

-

-

[10:22 AM]  _ do u ever get lost in ur gothic castle _

**[10:26 AM] it’s not a castle**

**[10:26 AM] also no**

[10:27 AM]  _ does paddington?  _

**[10:27 AM] no**

[10:27 AM]  _ does mordelia?  _

**[10:28 AM] i refuse to have this inane conversation**

**[10:28 AM] also.**

**[10:28 AM]** **no.**

[10:28 AM]  _ what about your other sisters?  _

**[10:29 AM] snow. **

**[10:29 AM] what do you want? **

[10:29 AM]  _ just making conversation _

**[10:29 AM] why? **

[10:30 AM]  _ why not?  _

**[10:30 AM] you know why not. **

**[10:30 AM] and do NOT send me a popcorn emoji**

[10:30 AM]  _ lol _

[10:31 AM]  _ ok _

[10:31 AM]  _ idk baz _

[10:31 AM]  _ srsly y not _

[10: 33 AM]  _ we talk now _

**[10:33 AM] we do not “talk”**

[10:33 AM]  _ u keep replying _

**[10:33 AM] i like to have the last word**

[10:35 AM]  _ u want to talk too _

[10:35 AM]  _ and its the summer _

[10:35 AM]  _ nobdy cares _

**[10:38 AM] my family would care**

**[10:38 AM] you’re the mage’s heir**

[10:42 AM]  _ yea i kno _

[10:43 AM]  _ but its the summer  _

[10:43 AM]  _ and we dont have to worry about that now _

Baz stared at the phone, his heart thudding slowly in his chest. He was pushing at Snow and he didn’t know why.

(except he did know why) 

(he knew he waited for Snow’s texts like a drowning  <del>man</del> monster waited for breath) 

(he knew it had to end eventually)

(he knew they were enemies and he was already a vampire, already gay, already a disappointment to his Mother’s legacy) 

(he couldn’t be in love with the Mage’s heir  _ too).  _

[10:44 AM]  _ do we? _

Snow didn’t seem to know anything. 

**[10:46 AM] you being the mage’s heir doesn’t change over the summer, snow**

[10:50 AM]  _ i guess not _

Baz waited, but there was nothing else after that, not even dots at the bottom of the screen. He squeezed his eyes shut and told himself to breathe.

He didn’t want Snow to stop this, (how would he breathe then?) The first and last thoughts he had when his eyes opened in the morning and closed at night were about these messages — he was weak like that.

**[10:58 AM] forgot to tell you fiona was here the other day**

**[10:58 AM] annoyed me the whole time**

**[10:58 AM] i need to return the favor**

It was something he couldn’t stop thinking about, going to London. Maybe getting a coffee. 

He braced himself to wait — but he didn’t have to wait long: 

[11:00 AM]  _ ur aunt is scary _

[11:00 AM]  _ she glares better than u _

**[11:00 AM] no one has a better glare than i do **

[11:00 AM]  _ trust me _

[11:01 AM]  _ im expert at it  _

Snow being an expert at something related to him was not a thing Baz needed to contemplate; even just in passing the thought had the sheep’s blood he’d drunk earlier rising to his face.

**[11:02 AM] i doubt you’re an expert at anything **

[11:02 AM]  _ wow _

[11:02 AM]  _ rude _

[11:02 AM]  **accurate**

[11:03 AM]  _ agree to disagree _

[11:03 AM] 🍿

-

-

-

[2:03 PM]  _ text me a pic of paddington pls _

**[2:07 PM] no**

[2:07 PM]  _ pls _

**[2:07 PM] why**

[2:08 PM]  _ idk its raining _

[2:08 PM]  _ my shirt is wet _

[2:08 PM]  _ my socks r wet _

[2:09 PM]  _ i want to see ur cat _

**[2:09 PM]** **it’s the FAMILY cat**

**[2:09 PM]** **also**

**[2:10 PM]** **there is such a thing as an umbrella**

[2:10 PM]  _ maybe for u mr  _ 💰

**[2:10 PM] are you telling me you don’t have an umbrella?**

**[2:10 PM] what kind of facility is that?**

[2:12 PM]  _ just text me a pic of ur cat pitch _

**[2:19 PM] paddington yawn.jpg**

[2:19 PM]  _ he looks so posh and stuck up _

[2:19 PM]  _ def ur cat  _

_ _

**[2:20 PM] you have a job**

**[2:20 PM] use the money from your job to buy an umbrella**

**[2:20 PM] i shouldn’t have to spell this out**

[2:26 PM]  _ paddington is cute _

-

-

-

  
  


[3:43 PM]  _ how long should something take to scar? _

**[3:44 PM] what? i don’t know. **

**[3:44 PM] why?**

[3:44 PM]  _ just wondering  _

**[3:45 PM] why?**

**[3:45 PM] asking for a friend again?**

[3:45 PM]  _ lol _

[3:46 PM]  _ yea  _

[3:46 PM]  _ i guess so _

**[3:46 PM] something like what?**

[3:48 PM]  _ a cut _

**[3:48 PM] what kind of cut, snow?**

[3:51 PM]  _ nothing  _

[3:51 PM]  _ forget it.  _

**[3:55 PM] where are you?**

[4:00 PM]  _ work _

**[4:00 PM] until when?**

[4:00 PM]  _ another couple of hours _

**[4:08 PM] are we talking about that goblin wound?**

**[4:08 PM] from DAYS ago??**

[4:28 PM]  _ maybe _

**[4:28 PM] go see a doctor**

[4:28 PM]  _ what _

[4:28 PM]  _ no _

[4:28 PM]  _ i cant do that _

[4:30 PM]  _ it’s fine  _

[4:30 PM]  _ it’s better. i was just wondering  _

[4:33 PM]  _ in case i wanted to go swimming  _

[4:33 PM]  _ or something  _

**[4:33 PM] why can’t you do that? **

**[4:33 PM] don’t be an idiot**

**[4:33 PM] there are free clinics in London**

**[4:33 PM] find one**

[4:37 PM]  _ i know about the clinics  _

[4:37 PM]  _ i was just wondering  _

[4:39 PM]  _ they’d have to report it to the center _

[4:39 PM]  _ it’d be a whole thing _

**[4:39 PM] so what??**

**[4:40 PM] go if you need to**

**[4:40 PM] deal with consequences after**

**[4:40 PM] isn’t that your usual modus operandi anyway?**

[4:44 PM]  _ lol stop with the latin _

[4:49 PM]  _ and not over the summer _

[4:49 PM]  _ more like dont rock the boat lol _

**[4:49 PM] don’t be stupid about this**

[4:49 PM]  _ it’s fine _

[4:50 PM]  _ itll prob scar soon  _

[4:50 PM]  _ i was just wondering _

**[4:50 PM]** **a doctor could tell you that**

[4:51 PM]  _ lol yea ok i get it  _

[4:53PM]  _ espresso drinks call _

[4:53 PM]  _ ttyl _

-

-

-

  
  


**[6:41 PM] the cat tried to kill me today**

**[6:41 PM] thought you might want to know**

**[6:41 PM] to send him a thank you card or something**

[6:46 PM]  _ lol now u kno wut it feels like _

**[6:46 PM] being tripped by a cat?**

[6:48 PM]  _ being attacked by a dark, obnoxiously posh creature _

**[6:48 PM] hilarious**

**[6:50 PM] where are you?**

[6:57 PM]  _ at the center _

[6:57 PM]  _ where are u? _

**[6:57 PM] no work today?**

[7:03 PM]  _ nah _

[7:03 PM]  _ worked too many hours last week _

**[7:03 PM] ah**

**[7:04 PM] and what does the Chosen One do on his off days in the normal world**

**[7:04 PM] without magikal creatures to hunt **

[7:08 PM]  _ now who’s hilarious  _

[7:08 PM]  _ lol _

Snow’s messages over the past few days had been sparse, emojis or monosyllabic. It was a little… worrying.

[7:13 PM]  _ not a lot  _

Baz frowned. Snow was usually a pain in the ass with messages, insistent and obnoxious (hilarious and distracting). This felt like something was wrong.

[7:16 PM]  _ wut about u _

**[7:16 PM] i practice**

**[7:16 PM] footy**

**[7:17 PM] violin**

**[7:17 PM] magic**

The dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen kept Baz from shooting off another message – barely. But as the minutes ticked by, he was about to send one anyway when words slid onto his screen.

[7:22 PM]  _ u sound busy _

**[7:22 PM] have to keep busy **

**[7:22 PM] it keeps the toddlers away**

[7:25 PM]  _ lol _

**[7:27 PM] what about you?**

**[7:27 PM] been busy outside of work?**

[7:28 PM]  _ not really  _

Baz took a breath — 

**[7:28 PM] you’ve been quiet**

**[7:28 PM] not a lot of messages**

**[7:29 PM] thought you might be busy**

[7:30 PM]  _ oh  _

[7:33 PM]  _ someone saw me with the phone _

[7:33 PM]  _ been keeping it hidden _

**[7:33 PM] you’re not supposed to have a phone there either? **

[7:34 PM]  _ no you can _

[7:35 PM]  _ but some people make a big deal about it _

[7:35 PM]  _ its fine _

**[7:35 PM] fine?**

[7:36 PM]  _ yeah _

**[7:36 PM] you sure?**

[7:38 PM]  _ yea _

Baz didn’t really think it was fine, not with the way Snow’s messages had tapered off. And not with the way the messages seemed… quieter. 

It was a strange feeling, but over the last few days Baz had learned to  _ hear  _ Snow’s messages (weirder still, was that it seemed sometimes like Snow could do the same with him). 

[7:40 PM]  _ so  _

[7:42 PM]  _ u missed me _

Baz’s lips quirked — that was better.

**[7:42 PM] definitely not**

[7:44 PM]  _ seems like it pitch _

**[7:44 PM] what would you know about anything**

[7:47 PM]  _ lol _

[7:47 PM]  _ that’s actually true i guess _

[7:47 PM]  _ not much _

**[7:48 PM] finally you admit it**

**[7:48 PM] and i have it writing**

[7:50 PM]  _ and wut r u gonna do with it _

**[7:50 PM] print it out and paper the watford halls**

**[7:50 PM] obviously **

**[7:51 PM] Chosen One Knows Nothing About Anything**

[7:51 PM]  _ omg  _

[7:51 PM]  _ u can’t print text messages  _

**[7:52 PM] and why not**

[7:52 PM]  _ BECAUSE _

**[7:53 PM] i could if i wanted to**

[7:55 PM]  _ that’s such a loser thing to do pitch _

[7:55 PM]  _ i finally see the tru u _

**[7:57 PM] thats fear talking snow**

**[7:57 PM] i can smell it**

[7:59 PM]  _ another thing u can’t do with text messages  _

Baz was smiling. 

And in the privacy of his own room, he didn’t even try to stop himself. 

**[8:00 PM] i do what i want **

[8:00 PM]  _ fine _

[8:01 PM]  _ but u still can’t  _

[8:01 PM]  _ mini-truce _

**[8:01 PM] again **

**[8:02 PM] words that have no meaning**

[8:04 PM]  _ what happens in texts stays in texts _

**[8:04 PM] and you’re calling me a loser**

**[8:04 PM] ???**

[8:06 PM]  _ lol  _

[8:06 PM]  _ ok so maybe we’re the same _

We match, Baz almost wrote. He froze at just  **we ** and stared at the phone like it had come alive in his hands,  _ fuck.  _ What was  _ wrong  _ with him? He swallowed hard, erasing the word quickly. 

And rubbed a hand over his face just as more of Snow’s word slid onto the screen.

[8:08 PM]  _ it’s fine tho _

[8:09 PM]  _ been kind of tired _

[8:10 PM]  _ and hiding the phone lol _

[8:10 PM]  _ but not that busy _

**[8:08 PM] i haven’t gotten a 1 am text in a while**

**[8:08 PM] so i assume you’re sleeping**

[8:10 PM]  _ lol _

[8:11 PM]  _ there’s a cold going around too _

[8:11 PM]  _ so there’s that _

**[8:11 PM] do you have it?**

[8:11 PM]  _ no  _

[8:12 PM]  _ i’m good _

[8:12 PM]  _ but makes everything weirder around here lol _

And Baz remembered abruptly — 

**[8:12 PM]** **did you go to the clinic?**

[8:13 PM]  _ nah  _

[8:13 PM]  _ it’s fine _

**[8:14 PM] is it?**

[8:16 PM]  _ yea _

[8:20 PM]  _ i’ll ttyl ok _

[8:20 PM]  _ check-in is coming up  _

Baz frowned. He wasn’t exactly sure what ‘check-in’ meant in that context, but he had gathered it happened fairly often and meant Snow had to confirm his whereabouts. He kept his phone on him the rest of the night, even going to bed later than usual, but he didn’t hear from Snow again. 

It was… worrying. 

**-**

**-**

**\- **

The air was heavy with mist and moisture, not quite rain, but certainly not a lovely day. The sun was shrouded behind undecided clouds, wavering whenever it did peak out. 

It fit Baz’s mood perfectly – undecided. 

He stood down the block, glaring at the coffee shop on the corner. A group of teenagers spilled out carrying iced drinks with frothy whipped cream and laughing at something seemingly uproariously funny. 

He scowled. He blew out a breath. He needed to  _ decide.  _

Was he going inside or not? 

He licked his lips. He had fed this morning before leaving Hampshire. His sudden dry mouth had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with the freckled terror presumably making iced coffee in that shop. 

He had taken the initiative and put himself on a train to London. Fiona wasn’t even home, but his father didn’t know that. As far as his Father knew, he and Fiona were spending their usual time together a little earlier this summer; and in London no less, instead of abroad. 

It was a childish thing to do, Baz was completely aware. 

But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was a pit in his stomach that wouldn’t loosen no matter how many games of tennis he played or pieces on the violin or chess matches with Mordelia (or more importantly, texts he exchanged with Snow).

And that was a big messy part of it, wasn’t it? Messaging with Snow every single day without seeing him, without hearing his voice, watching his obnoxious adams apple bob and the way his eyebrows twitched and the way his mouth formed words — it was making him batty. He had actually hit a wrong note on his violin the day before yesterday. A screeching sound that he hadn’t made since he was six years old and just picking up the instrument. 

The door to the shop opened again, a girl with blue hair and a backpack slung over shoulder stepped out carrying a tray of coffees, a pastry bag in her other hand. 

Baz clenched his jaw. This was stupid. What was he doing? Piecing together what shop Snow worked at from half a dozen tidbits of information, lying to his father, subjecting himself to Fiona’s living conditions unnecessarily – all for what?  _ _

And as if the universe wanted to address his question specifically, the door to the shop opened and Simon Snow stepped outside. 

And everything else narrowed to Snow and his maroon shirt, his black jeans, his stupid, small smile as he held the door open for a lady with a stroller (of course). 

A beat later the lady was on her way and Snow was back inside. 

Baz scowled, bracing himself, and headed down the block. 

It was warm inside; and it smelled like cinnamon. And underneath that, if you wanted to get creepily invasive – it smelled like Simon Snow (like smoke and forest and sweet butter), but that was something you would only pick up on with Baz’s unique talent at scents (and vampiric ability). 

It wasn’t very big inside, a few tables along the windows (just one person seated with a laptop), the counter with a display case full of pastries at one end and a register at the other, the space behind the counter lined with coffee machines – and occupied by one surprised looking Chosen One.

Baz sauntered over to the display case, letting his gaze trail over them for a moment, before sinking his gaze into Snow’s. There was something like relief, like a loosening in his chest, when his gaze met those unremarkable blue eyes. It always surprised him at just how fucked he was over this boy.

“Snow,” he said flatly. “Are you going to ask what you can get for me?” 

Simon blinked. “Baz?” 

Baz arched an eyebrow at him. 

“ _ Baz?”  _ Simon said again and his mouth was starting to curve into a smile. 

It was  _ too much.  _ Baz looked away. His gaze back on the display case. “Are these fresh?” 

“What are you  _ doing  _ here?” Snow asked, like a complete numpty as he came around the counter. 

Almost like he wanted to  _ touch _ him.

Baz tensed. “Not being attended to by the barista, apparently.” 

Snow was grinning now. “You’re really here.” 

Baz glared at him. “Clearly.” 

“Why?” 

“Finally,” Baz said, “I would like an iced coffee,” he ordered, then waved towards the machines, “I presume you can handle that.” 

And Simon Snow actually huffed a laugh. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said, moving back around, still smiling. 

“I don’t see how that’s something I would do,” Baz said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Don’t you?” Simon was grinning as he took a cup and wrote  _ Basilton  _ on it. “You could have mentioned it this morning.” 

“Again, I don’t see why.” 

“Is this why you couldn’t send me a picture of Paddington?” 

Baz frowned. Snow  _ had  _ asked him for a picture at the crack of dawn this morning. “I’m not going to enable your stalking of my cat.” 

“Family cat,” Snow retorted, pouring ice and pumping a clear liquid into the cup. 

“Shut up.” Baz snapped, glaring now. This was – different. Snow  _ teasing  _ him. He didn’t like it (or rather, he didn’t like how his heart was beating frantically in his chest and his hands felt like they going to shake at any moment).

Snow’s smile didn’t waver. “I can’t believe you’re in London – ” he froze suddenly, glancing behind Baz, “Your Aunt Fiona’s not here is she?” 

Baz rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you’re just as unobservant in the normal world.” 

Snow breathed out, as if he really had thought Fiona could be lurking in a corner. He finally poured coffee into the cup, pressed a lid onto it, and shook it around. “Anything else?” He asked and that smile was back. 

It was the most Snow had  _ ever  _ smiled at him and Baz understood with crystal clear clarity why he made sure Snow never had a reason to smile at him at Watford. 

It was unbearable. 

He scowled darkly, fingers curling into fists at his side. 

Snow blinked, smile fading. “You okay?” He asked. 

And the tone was friendly,  _ nice.  _

Baz swallowed past the lump in his throat. “We are not  _ friends,”  _ he spat. 

(what was he  _ doing  _ here?)

_ (stupid, stupid, stupid)  _

Snow blinked again, the smile was gone now. And without it, there was nothing to distract Baz from the dark circles under Simon’s eyes, from the way his cheeks had lost their fullness, from the weariness in his voice when he asked, “Why are you here then?” 

_ (stupid, stupid, stupid)  _

He sneered. “It’s a  _ coffee shop,  _ Snow. I can come in whenever I want.” 

Snow bit the corner of his lip a little. “I guess, yeah…” he slid the coffee cup over, “Do you want anything else?” He asked, his gaze dropping to the counter. 

It was… non-confrontational. Baz would have expected more chin jutting indignation. 

Baz pressed his lips together, trying not to think about how big Snow’s eyes look in his face. It had only been a little over three weeks. It was hardly any time at all. 

“You never answered my question,” Baz pointed out. “Are the pastries fresh?” 

“Oh,” Snow looked up then, “Yeah. Well, I mean from this morning… not from just now. The scones aren’t like Watford scones or anything, but they’re okay. The muffins are pretty good… and the chocolate chip cookies.”

He was like a puppy, a tiny pat on the head and he was ready to play again. 

“I’ll take one then, a cookie.” 

Snow nodded eagerly. “Do you want me to warm it up? I’ll warm it up. It’s better that way…” he said earnestly, taking a cookie from the case carefully and transferring it to an oven of some kind. “Are you spending time with her then? Your Aunt Fiona.” 

Baz rolled his eyes. “Yes.” 

“Oh.” Snow nodded. “Does she live near here?” 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Baz said more mildly, getting his wallet out. “But yes,” he added. It wasn’t a lie. A brisk twenty-five minute walk wasn’t the worst. 

“I worked here last summer too,” Snow told him. 

“We went to Scotland last summer,” Baz said before he could stop himself.

“Oh cool,” Snow hummed, turning when the machine beeped. He slid the warm cooking into a sleeve. “Here ya go,” he said and he smiled a little, tentatively; like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to smile at him. 

It made Baz want to set something on fire. 

He snatched the cookie and slapped a twenty on the counter. “Smashing as always, Snow,” he said snidely. 

The corner of Snow’s bottom lip was between his teeth again, the smile faded again. “Let me get your change, do you want a bag for it?” He asked, turning to the register. 

Baz’s gaze slid over Snow’s profile with laser-sharp focus for just a breath of time before he grabbed the coffee and turned around. He left without another word. 

( _ fled,  _ he  _ fled  _ without another word) 

(because he was stupid) 

(so very stupid)

**.tbc.**  
  



	4. Part II : Hampshire (Cont'd)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Chapter 4 grew a bit of teeth and wouldn't let go, it has spiraled into a chapter 5. Thank you to those still hanging around! :) 
> 
> Not as many text conversations in this one, but we're still doing...
> 
> **Bold** = Baz  
_Italics_ = Simon

**BAZ**

[3:42 PM]  _ u left ur change _

**[3:44 PM] i had somewhere to be**

**[3:44 PM] and your service is very slow**

[3:44 PM]  _ lol _

[3:45 PM]  _ not the first time ive heard that actually _

**[3:45 PM] not surprised**

**[3:45 PM] lucky for you it wasn’t busy**

[3:46 PM] it’ll get busy again in an hour 

**[3:47 PM] are you working by yourself? **

[3:47 PM] _no_ _she was on break_

[3:47 PM]  _ i’m on break now  _

[3:48 PM]  _ did u like the cookie _

**[3:50 PM] it wasn’t terrible**

[3:52 PM]  _ the donuts r good too _

[3:52 PM]  _ they sell out early _

**[3:55 PM] i’m usually up early **

Baz clenched his jaw. Why had he said that?

[3:55 PM]  _ i can save u one _

[3:55 PM]  _ if u want _

[3:57 PM]  _ if u want to come back _

[3:59 PM]  _ it was nice _

[4:01 PM]  _ seeing u  _

[4:04 PM]  _ i never really see anyone from watford _

[4:04 PM]  _ over the summer _

[4:06 PM]  **what about the mage?**

[4:08 PM]  _ not in the last couple of summers _

[4:10 PM]  _ sometimes its like watford’s not even real _

[4:10 PM]  _ lol _

[4:10 PM]  _ crazy right _

Baz swallowed hard, it wasn’t crazy. It was devastating. Like a sword to the gut (or a sucker punch right to the nose). 

He had known since first year that Snow went back to care homes over the summer and that he didn’t even  _ visit _ the World of Mages during those weeks.

But Snow talked about missions and the Mage all the time during the school year, about hunting trips and camping and training and more missions — and it wasn’t until this moment that Baz realized it had been a very long time since Snow had mentioned going on a mission  _ with  _ the Mage versus going on a mission  _ for  _ the Mage. 

[4:15 PM]  _ i mean obviously i kno its real _

[4:15PM]  _ i saw u today _

[4:17 PM]  _ i could never make u up _

Baz blew out a breath, locking the phone for a moment and rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to calm himself down, because sending a series of texts outlining what  _ shit  _ the Mage was would probably not go over well. 

**[4:21 PM]** **obviously not**

**[4:21 PM] you have zero creativity**

**[4:22 PM] what kind of donuts are there?**

[4:22 PM]  _ glazed _

[4:22 PM]  _ chocolate _

[4:22 PM]  _ and apple _

**[4:23 PM] save me an apple one **

[4:23 PM]  _ good choice _

**[4:23 PM] what im known for**

[4:24 PM]  _ lol ok pitch _

  
  


\- 

\- 

\- 

Baz was better prepared the next day. It had been too much to see Snow after almost a month; and then to  _ also  _ have him smile and tease and talk to him as if they were friends. Baz had barely been ready to  _ see  _ him. 

Today, though. Today Baz was prepared to withstand the force of Simon Snow’s smile. 

It was raining outright this morning, though the forecast said it would give way to sunshine in the afternoon. 

Doubtful. 

The coffee shop was much busier, and Baz hung back, watching the flow of it. Snow wasn’t alone behind the counter now, in fact he wasn’t talking to customers at all. That was a tall girl, curly hair pulled into two long braids at either side of her face. She took orders, writing on the cups, and handing them back to Snow. 

He wasn’t precisely quick about it, but he worked carefully and everyone that picked up their drinks at his side of the counter smiled a little. He was wearing the same color shirt, the same color jeans, and with his hair shored down to his scalp, and the focus on his face while he made drinks – he looked raw, almost intimidating – until he offered people that small smile. 

When there was only one person left in the line, Baz stepped forward. The girl gave him a blank look when he reached the front. 

Baz arched an eyebrow.

And she flushed. “What can I – can I help you?” She asked, flustered. 

Girls were so easy. 

“Perhaps,” he said, pitching his voice so that it would carry. 

Snow whirled around. “Baz.” 

Baz was disgustingly pleased at the way a wider smile lit Snow’s face. 

And tragically distressed at the way his heart started pounding. 

(maybe it wasn’t just girls that were easy)

“I got it, eh?” He said to the girl, finishing up the coffee he was working on and sliding it over to a waiting patron. The girl frowned at Snow as she moved away, glancing around the shop before going to pick up some empty mugs and plates around teh cafe. 

Baz refused to smile when Snow tugged a small bag out from under the counter. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly. 

_ Too  _ pleasantly. 

Baz scowled. “Make me an iced dirty chai.” 

Snow laughed. “You got it… this is for you,” he added. 

“I gathered as much,” Baz said stiffly. 

“Why’re you up so early?” He wondered, getting a cup out and prepping the tea. 

The true answer to that was humiliating so Baz didn’t hesitate to lie. “I always get up this early.”

Snow shot him a quick, disbelieving look (those boring blue eyes a little wider, eyebrows lifting a little). “Even over break?” 

“It is called a routine for a reason, Snow.” 

Snow smiled without response, his head bent over the espresso machine. 

And Baz couldn’t resist. “Careful with the wall.”

Snow’s head shot up, “Shh!” He hissed, but his eyes were bright like they hadn’t been yesterday. “Nobody knows about that!” 

“I can’t even picture how you managed it,” Baz said dryly. He could though, he never had any trouble picturing Snow. 

He got another smile for that comment. “I might have been distracted…” he said and quickly turned his attention back to the machine. 

Baz let himself stare. He’s never seen Snow like this before, this half-way between the haggard boy that shows up every September and the hale one that leaves in June. 

“What’re you guys doing today?” Snow asked lightly, eyes still on the machine, “You and your aunt?” 

Baz blinked, then his brows drew together a bit. “Nothing in particular. She has her own thing to do…” Which was true. Fiona was off doing her own thing right now, blissfully unaware she was hosting her nephew in her flat. 

“Oh,” Snow shifted, taking the espresso shot and putting into a plastic cup. “So what’re you gonna do?” 

“I was planning to have a coffee and a pastry,” Baz said dryly. “And go from there.” 

He was horrified ( _ delighted) _ to see another smile touch Snow’s face at that. “No itinerary planned five days in advance then?”

“I am on holiday,” Baz said.  _ Somehow  _ managing to keep a straight face. 

“Holiday-Baz isn’t a planner?” Simon teased, “I’m shocked. And appalled.” 

“I’m shocked you know that word.” 

And Snow made a face at that, wrinkling his nose and smiling. Baz felt like he was going to spark alight in flames.

“What about you?” He asked, clearing his throat a little. 

Snow shrugged. 

(fuck)

(he’d  _ missed  _ that shrug)

“I’m here till three today,” Snow added. 

“And then?” Baz prompted, watching Snow add ice to the cup and press the lid into place. 

Another shrug. “I dunno.”

“No  _ itinerary?”  _ Baz said a little snidely. 

Snow grinned and said, “Nope.” 

He made a little popping sound at the  _ p  _ and Baz honestly wanted to light  _ him _ on fire too. He scowled. “Can I have the chai or are you going to hold it hostage on that side of the counter?” 

Simon huffed a little laugh, sliding it over. “How long are you in town for? Are you guys heading abroad again?” He wondered lightly. 

Baz took a bill out to pay. “I did  _ just  _ say I don’t have plans, didn’t I?” 

“For the  _ day,”  _ Simon said, shaking his head when Baz handed him the bill, “You’re still paid up from yesterday.” He smiled a little, “Thought maybe you had  _ bigger  _ plans.” 

“Yesterday was not me paying in advance for today,” Baz pointed out, frowning. 

Snow shrugged. “All you got was a coffee. You gave me too much and left without the change. So I figured…”

“Would it not then go in the  _ tip jar,”  _ Baz said pointedly, motioning towards the jar that was on the counter. 

Snow leaned on the counter, eyes on Baz’s face. “Do you know what a tip jar is, Baz?” He asked. 

And Baz sank right into the warmth of Simon Snow’s unremarkably blue gaze. All he could do was blink at him, mouth dry. 

“It collects tips... _ ” _ Snow continued, his mouth pursed into an almost smile, “For a job  _ well done _ .” He was clearly holding back a smile. 

And Baz was so fascinated by it, by the fact that Snow was talking to  _ him  _ like this, by the fact that Snow was so obviously amused  _ by him,  _ so obviously  _ enjoying  _ him, that he couldn’t speak, just let himself spiral downwards into those blue eyes. 

“Are you saying that I did a job well done, Baz?” He teased. 

_ Merlin, he loved this muppet.  _

“No,” Baz said and was  _ mortified  _ by how scratchy his voice sounded, “ _ No,”  _ he repeated, clearing his throat and taking a step back from the counter, “It's an incentive to do a more adequate job next time.” 

Snow laughed a little, curling over the counter to rub a hand over his face. “More adequate,” he echoed, “I could probably do that.” He looked up at Baz, “Maybe.” 

“I’m not holding my breath,” Baz said flatly (as flatly as he could manage). 

“Probably smart,” Snow said more quietly. He straightened up, slowly. His smile softening at the edges and Baz wasn’t sure where all the air in the room had gone. “I’ll keep at it though.” 

  
  


He stared for a beat longer than he should, because Snow tilted his head to one side - like a retriever trying to interpret a weird sound. 

  
  


Baz scowled at him, reaching for the drink. “I have a book,” he blurted out and then turned towards one of the tables and stalked over. 

  
  


_ I have a book? _

Tragically the ground didn’t open up and swallow him whole and Baz refused to flee this bloody coffee shop again, so he had no choice but to take very deliberate, very even and steady steps towards one of the tables. 

He blew out a slow breath and sat down without looking over at Snow.

It was muscle memory, really. Being in the same room as him, being hyper aware of his movements, of his breathing, without acknowledging anything he did. 

It was as familiar as a worn in jumper and it actually served to steady Baz. He could spend time around Snow and have Snow smile and have Snow be friendly with him – he was Pitch for Merlin’s sake. He could withstand a boy’s lopsided smile. 

With that in mind, Baz straightened his spine and took a book from his bag. 

-

-

-

He had actually managed to comprehend an entire two pages of his book when he sensed Snow moving out from behind the counter. He tensed minutely, the words on the page disappearing in front of him as all his senses attuned to the other boy. 

Snow was moving towards him and Baz made a conscious effort to regulate his breathing and then very deliberately, he turned to the next page. 

A paper sleeve settled on the table in front of him. 

“You forgot your donut,” Snow said simply. 

Baz swallowed. “I didn’t forget it.” 

“You left it up there.” 

“That’s different from forgetting it.” 

Snow sighed, long and drawn out. 

He didn’t say anything though; and he didn’t move away. He just stood there until Baz couldn’t take it anymore and looked up at him, “ _ What,  _ Snow?” 

And then the muppet took a seat across from him. “I’m taking my break.” 

Baz narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t it early for that?” 

“How would you know?” 

“Because you usually – ” Baz stopped himself mid-sentence. 

Because Snow usually texted him during his breaks.

And Baz had learned to time them, to make sure he was available and had his phone. 

Snow smiled. “You  _ are  _ the same person,” he said, teasing again. 

Baz scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He shrugged, his smile softening again. 

And what was Baz thinking staying here instead of getting a drink and  _ leaving _ ? He was going to combust. 

“You’re different on the phone,” Snow said quietly, “It’s almost like we’re friends.” 

“We’re  _ not,”  _ Baz snapped.

“Yeah, okay,” Snow said appeasingly, “Still. It’s like I’m talking to someone else.” 

Baz frowned at him. “Well you’re not.” 

“I know,” Snow said, tilting his head to one side, “You know what time I take my breaks.” 

Baz’s frown deepened. “That is not what I said.”

And Snow shrugged again. “That’s what I heard.” 

Crowley, this idiot. Could Baz love him more?

Baz pressed his lips together tightly or he was going to  _ smile _ . “Don’t take an early break on my account, Snow,” he said snidely. 

“It’s not  _ really  _ my break,” he admitted, “Just sitting here, instead of sitting there…” he motioned to behind the counter. 

And Baz noticed the shop had emptied out. There was one other person sitting at a table, a laptop open in front of them, but otherwise they were alone. Even the girl with the braids was nowhere to be found.

“It gets quiet for a little while around now. Everyone’s got their morning cup and made it to work,” Simon said, like he could read Baz’s mind.

“Shouldn’t you be refilling something then?” 

“Probably, yeah,” he said with a small half-smile. 

He looked tired, Baz thought. He swallowed hard. “Where’s the girl?”

“Cate. She’s in the back. We kind of stay out of each other’s way…” Simon said ruefully.

“Not friends with your co-worker, Snow?” That actually did surprise Baz. People tended to gravitate towards Simon Snow and he was usually friendly to everyone (unless you happened to be his vampiric, archnemesis roommate, of course).

“Not really,” Snow answered with a little shrug, “I kinda keep to myself, ya know? And I just met her when the summer started.” 

“Hasn’t joined the fanclub yet.” 

Snow smiled a little, shaking his head slowly. 

And Baz couldn’t stop noticing how tired he looked all of a sudden, like every movement he made had to be considered.

(couldn’t help but miss the curls that would have bounced on Simon’s head at a motion like that)

“Not yet,” Snow offered quietly, that half-smile quirking his lips again, “What are you reading?” 

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Is it for school?” 

“No, I’m taking a break from the summer reading list.” 

“Right, of course,” Snow said and he was teasing again, Baz could hear it in his voice. “Take a break from reading by reading. Makes perfect sense.” 

Baz rolled his eyes. “And what do you do to take a break?” He asked, “Sample the donuts?”

He smiled a little, “Sometimes.” 

“Not a perk of working here?” Baz asked, just wanting to keep him talk suddenly. He seemed less weary when he was animated. 

“You should try it and tell me,” he responded, leaning his cheek into his hand, elbow on the table. 

“I will,” Baz said, watching him. 

And Snow watched him right back. “When?” He asked.

Baz arched an eyebrow. “When I feel like it.” He took a pointed sip of his iced chai, “You can have it if you’re so eager to see it eaten.” 

Simon rolled his eyes. “I saved it for you.” 

“Did you eat one?” 

He shook his head, “Not today.” 

“More of a muffin day?” 

Snow smiled a little. “I got here a little late,” he admitted. 

Baz studied him for a beat. “Overslept?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he said a little sheepishly. “I – ”

“Oy, Simon!” 

Snow jumped, gaze whirling towards the counter. The girls with braids had one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face. “Do you want to help me restock here or what?”

“Sorry, gotta go,” he said to Baz and pushed to his feet quickly. 

And Baz watched him pause for breath, like he was unsure of something, a quick and pinched look flickering over his face. 

But it was gone so quickly from his face and then  _ he  _ was gone so quickly, slipping behind the counter and disappearing through a door to the back that Baz had to question whether he had really seen it or not. 

He stared after him for a long moment. 

-

-

-

“Baz?”

Baz kept his expression very even as he gave Snow a pointed once-over look with his gaze. “Snow,” he said with a little nod. “You’re off, I suppose.” 

“Uh yeah, I – ” he stared at Baz, mouth hanging open (mouth breather). His eyebrows drawn together, “You’re… wearing jeans…?”

Not what Baz was expecting. He lifted one of his brows. “Yes.”

“But – ” Snow blinked his boring blue eyes, his gaze tracing the length of Baz’s legs where he was leaning back against the side of the coffee shop. “You wear jeans?” He finally said and then immediately flushed. 

As well he should for that absurdity. 

(he looked good enough to eat with that flush on his cheeks)

(or lick)

“Clearly,” Baz said impassively. 

The muppet closed his mouth for a moment before opening it again, “Oh…”

Baz rolled his eyes. “I was wearing them three hours ago when I was last here,” he pointed out. 

Snow shut his mouth again, still flushed and shuffling his feet a little. Then he frowned again, “I thought you left...” 

Baz had left, during the afternoon rush; right before he knew Simon usually took his breaks. Had it been cowardly? Maybe. 

But he had tested his limits quite enough at that point. He needed time to regroup, to close his eyes and  _ not  _ breathe in that scent that was so uniquely, obnoxiously Simon Snow.

“I did leave,” he said flatly, “Now I’m back. Let’s go.” He pushed away from the side of the building and started walking down the block. 

“Go…?” Snow echoed, but he fell into step with Baz nonetheless, glancing at his face quickly. “Go where? Why’re you back?”

“I was coming back this way and now I want chips,” he said easily. “You’re off you said.” 

“Yeah,” Snow added with a little nod.

“And I’ve never known you to not stuff your face with chips at every available opportunity…” 

Snow was quiet for a beat and then, “That’s true.” 

“So,” Baz glanced at him, “There’s a place a block from here. You know it?” 

“Yeah, but – ” Snow was frowning, “Baz I don’t – I’m not sure – ”

“Are you busy now?” 

“Well, no, but…” 

“But  _ what?”  _ Baz cut in again, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at Snow’s face. He looked  _ exhausted  _ now that his shift was over and the flush had faded from his face — pale and bone tired. 

And Baz had to clench his hands into fists to keep from touching him. 

“Nothing,” Simon said quickly, “Just – you… want to get… food with me?” 

_ Yes.  _ Baz wanted to say.  _ Yes, I want to make sure that you eat today. I want to spend time with you. I want to look at your stupid freckled face.  _

He rolled his eyes and turned back towards the street, walking away. “ _ Want  _ is a strong word.” 

Snow caught up with him after another moment. “You usually  _ avoid  _ me at meal times.” 

“We’re not at Watford, Snow.” 

“Exactly,” he said, his voice low and questioning. “I don’t get it.” 

“Get  _ what?”  _

“Why you’re… spending time with me…?” He said, shrugging both shoulders.

Baz clenched his jaw. “I was just coming back this way,” he stated evenly, “You don’t  _ have  _ to come along. Even though we’re already here…” he said, motioning towards the shop a few feet away.

“I – ” Snow was looking at him again and Baz resolutely kept his gaze forward. “Is this a plot?” He asked. “Are you plotting something? Did you really… come here to… keep that up? The fighting and plotting? Because… there are so many normals and – and I don’t want to hurt anyone, okay? I don’t want to fight.” 

He sounded wary, worn out.

And Baz’s stomach twisted, of course Snow was expecting the worst. 

Baz stopped when they crossed the street, when they were standing in front of the chip shop. “I’m not plotting anything, Snow. Except for a late lunch.”

Snow looked conflicted, his gaze dropped to the pavement for a moment.

It was disturbing – to see this usually brash and bold boy hesitate so much, Baz couldn’t watch it anymore. “They’re just chips, Snow,” he snapped, pushing past him inside. 

He couldn’t breathe until a beat later when Snow followed him in. “I guess I could eat,” he announced and he offered Baz a half smile.

Baz rolled his eyes so he could avoid looking directly into Snow’s face. “Go grab a seat…” he said and shoved Snow in the direction of a few high top tables, ignoring the way he stumbled slightly and had to take a moment to steady himself. He ordered the chips and took a moment to force himself to  _ calm the fuck down.  _

It was not the first time he would be spending time with Simon Snow. 

He dropped the baskets of chips on the table in front of Simon ten minutes later and felt something like relief when the boy immediately reached for a few and shoved them into his mouth. 

“You’re disgusting,” he said flatly, sitting across from him. 

“S’good chips,” he said around the mouthful. 

Baz rolled his eyes. “They’re greasy.” 

And Snow shrugged. “Tastes fine to me.” 

“What  _ doesn’t?”  _

He smiled, that terrible lopsided smile, “I’ll tell ya when I find it.”

Baz did  _ not  _ return the smile. 

“So s’this what you do over the summer?” Snow asked around another mouthful. 

“Define  _ this,” _ Baz said dryly. 

He finished chewing. “This,” he said, “Buy coffees, eat chips, read not-for-school books?” 

“You’ve just described an average day in the lives of a million people, so yes,” Baz said dryly. 

Snow smiled a little. “Sounds like a good day,” he said more quietly, eating another few chips. 

Baz cleared his throat. “And you?” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you,” he said archly, pleased at how disdainful his tone sounded.

“I – what do you mean?” 

“What do  _ you  _ do?” He said, shifting slightly ( _ almost _ uncomfortably). Acutely aware of how awkward it was to ask Snow personal questions in person. “On a good day.” 

“Oh.” 

Baz watched him eat another few chips. He had slowed down. There was still a quarter of them left in the basket. 

“This is a good day,” he said finally, shrugging a little. 

And what was Baz supposed to  _ say  _ to that? 

Something in his expression must have conveyed the thought or maybe the silence went on for too long because Snow’s face flushed a bit again, cheeks reddening in a perfectly delectable way. “What?” 

Baz blinked, expertly snuffing out thoughts of Snow's flushed skin under his hands. He arched an eyebrow, “So I brighten your day,” he said and was proud to note he had managed his usual level of snide and smug. 

Snow’s face reddened even more and he straightened, “I didn’t say that!” 

“That’s what I heard,” Baz retorted, echoing what he now knew to be a favorite refrain of Snow’s.

He was rewarded with Snow's narrow-eyed stare and then a sigh, shoulders losing their line and a faint smile touching his mouth, eyes that were just a little brighter. “Hard of hearing, sad,” he teased, taking another chip. 

Baz rolled his eyes, forced himself to look at his watch so he wouldn't stare at Snow's mouth as he chewed. “How far is where you’re staying from here?” He asked a few beats later. 

“Not too far,” Snow said and rattled an address off that was a good thirty minutes from where they were sitting. 

Also, in the opposite direction from Fiona's.

"What?" Snow said after another beat of silence. 

Baz blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"You look put out." 

"I do not." 

"Yeah you do," Snow said with a nod, like it wasn't an argument even. "You got that look on your face." 

"What look?" 

"The put out look." 

Baz rolled his eyes again. "Well that clears it up." 

Snow shrugged. "I take the bus, usually." 

"I didn't ask," Baz retorted. And he  _ felt  _ put out suddenly, because he had wanted to know. And the idea that Snow could read him like that, with no effort whatsoever (let's face it, without even realizing he was doing it), was terrifying. 

He couldn't sit around for this. 

"Finish the chips, would you?" He added before Snow could say anything else, "I have to be on my way." 

Snow frowned. "You haven't eaten any." 

"You're table manners ruined my appetite," he retorted without missing a beat.

Snow sighed, but the corners of his lips turned up. 

It wasn’t the reaction Baz had been expected. “So you finish them,” he added. 

“Yeah," he nodded, "I will," he shrugged, "You in a big rush?" 

(yes)

"I didn't say that." 

(he had to to get away from Snow’s face and voice and smell) 

Snow smiled a little. "Is your Aunt expecting you?" 

(before I grab you) 

(and shake you)

(and bite you)

(and kiss you)

"If she were, she could wait." 

Snow rolled his eyes, ate a few more of the chips. He was eating slowly, methodically. It was reminiscent of how he ate when he first got back to Watford; and it made Baz's stomach twist. 

"Are you working tomorrow?" 

"Every day this week," Snow said with a little nod. "Only closing on Friday though." 

"No Friday night plans out then," Baz asked.  _ What was wrong with him? _

Snow blinked, looking a little confused. “I have a curfew,” he said, “Didn’t I tell you? I have to be in by ten on Fridays. No exceptions.” 

_ _

He most certainly had  _ not  _ told him. Baz pressed his lips together. Maybe he had alluded to it though. Maybe he had mentioned it in passing. Maybe Baz hated all these details because each one was worse than the last. 

“No exceptions...” He found himself echoing anyway. 

“Yeah,” Snow said with a small nod. “On weeknights it’s earlier.” 

“How much earlier?” 

“Eight.” 

Baz nodded slowly, “And what exactly happens if you miss curfew?” 

Snow shifted a little, “You find different arrangements for the night.” 

Baz blinked. “They lock you out?” 

“They lock the doors,” Snow said, shoving a clump of chips into his mouth, as if there were a difference.

And for the second time Baz found himself echoing Snow. “They lock the door.”

“They have to have rules, ya know? There are a lot of us.” 

“Right,” Baz said. 

Snow nodded. “You sure you don’t want these?” He motioned to the few chips left. 

“I’m sure,” Baz said absently; and watched Snow finish them. He rubbed his hands together to shake off the salt, then leaned back in the chair and met Baz’s gaze. 

“Thanks for the chips, mate,” he said easily. 

Baz scowled. “I am  _ not  _ your  _ mate,”  _ he snapped.

And was annoyed to see Snow brighten a little. “Okay, sure,” he said and then slid off the chair slowly, carefully. “You have to be on your way right?”

Baz swallowed hard. “Yeah.” Somewhere along the way, he had lost control of this situation.

Snow nodded. “You’re gonna be in London for a bit then, yeah?” 

“We covered this,” Baz snapped. His heart felt like it was pounding - maybe he  _ shouldn’t  _ have fed before coming here. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Snow nodded and he reached up with his hand, rubbing at the back of his head, “Maybe I’ll… see you again, then? Yeah?” 

Baz pressed his lips together; and he snuffed out the urge to say  _ yes  _ immediately. “Maybe,” he said after a beat of silence. 

Snow gave him another half smile and then he turned around and walked away. 

  
  


-

-

-

[4:49 PM]  _ btw _

[4:49 PM]  _ i ate your donut _

**[5:06 PM] excuse me**

[5:06 PM]  _ u just left it _

[5:06 PM]  _ without saying goodbye  _

**[5:11 PM] you’re ridiculous **

[5:12 PM]  _ want me to save u another one?? _

**[5:22 PM] not tomorrow **

[5:29 PM]  _ ok _

[5:29 PM]  _ not tomorrow _

  
  


-

-

-

  
  


Baz forced himself to stay away the next morning. 

He cleaned Fiona’s apartment instead. For his own  _ health.  _ Even a vampire’s immune system had to have limits and her flat was pushing them. 

In the afternoon, he went for a coffee. 

At least, that’s how he described it to himself. It’s all it was, after a long day of dealing with Fiona’s trash (literally at times). He wanted a coffee. 

He timed his arrival perfectly to just twenty minutes before Snow would be off. They’d go for another late lunch today and that was as far as Baz had gotten with his half-baked plan. 

When he arrived at the shop, the girl was the counter again. But Snow was not at the coffee machine. 

There was another boy standing there, dark hair and a scowl on his face. Baz scowled back. 

Three minutes of stilted conversation later and Baz shoved out the door of the place, a coffee he didn’t want in his hand and an icy knot in his stomach. 

Simon called out today, the girl had told him. 

He dumped in the coffee in a trash bin as he walked and pulled his phone out. 

**[2:49 PM] where are you?**

**[2:49 PM] why aren’t you here?**

[2:51 PM] _where?_

[2:51 PM] _oh_

**[2:51 PM] yeah**

**[2:52 PM] where do you think**

[2:52 PM]  _ i didn’t make it into work today _

**[2:52 PM]** **why not?**

[2:53 PM]  _ just couldn’t  _

**[2:53 PM] snow**

[2:59 PM]  _ i got into a fight _

[2:59 PM]  _ so 24 hour lock down for me _

**[2:59 PM]** **why?**

[3:01 PM]  _ it’s the policy _

[3:01 PM]  _ i’ll be at work tomorrow tho _

[3:01 PM]  _ closing _

**[3:01 PM] no**

**[3:02 PM]** **why did you get into a fight?**

[3:04 PM]  _ it’s what i do _

**[3:05 PM] no**

**[3:05 PM] it’s not **

[3:08 PM]  _ lol see what i mean _

[3:08 PM]  _ different person  _

Baz wasn’t in the mood for the joke.

**[3:08 PM] what happened?**

[3:11 PM]  _ stupid shit baz  _

[3:11 PM]  _ it’s done now _

**[3:11 PM] you’re sure?**

[3:12 PM]  _ yeah  _

[3:14 PM]  _ u worried  _

[3:14 PM] 🍿

**[3:17 PM] about you going off and decimating a quarter of London **

**[3:17 PM] yeah**

[3:20 PM]  _ lol don’t worry _

[3:20 PM]  _ london is safe _

And you? Baz almost asked, are you safe?

He stared at the screen of his phone so intently it was a wonder he didn’t melt it. 

[3:22 PM]  _ i’ll b at work tomorrow _

Baz blew out a slow breath, focusing on the words that slid onto the screen.

**[3:23 PM] save me a donut**

[3:23 PM]  _ late shift. i’m closing  _

**[3:23 PM] your point?**

[3:24 PM]  _ lol ok  _

**[3:24 PM] okay **

  
  


-

-

-

The place was busy when Baz walked in the next day. It was late evening, just an hour before closing, and the place was packed with a different type of crowd then he had seen before. 

Louder, younger. 

Most of the tables were occupied, phones and laptops out, people clustered around them in conversation and laughter. 

He placed himself at the end of the line, let two people who walked in a few moments later go ahead of him, and when he finally made it to the front counter, the girl took one look at him and immediately called  _ Simon  _ over her shoulder. 

Snow was there a beat later, swapping places with her. 

And Baz would have said something about the service getting moderately better except the words stuck in his throat -

Snow’s bottom lip was split and there was a dark bruise across one of his cheekbones, a raw look scrape at the center of it. 

“Hey,” he greeted Baz with a little smile. 

Baz stared. He wasn’t used to seeing it — for all the times he and Snow’d gotten into fights, for all the times Snow’d gone on a missions and trudged dirt and blood back to their room, for all the attacks he weathered at Watford — there was always someone around to heal Snow.

There was never any  _ lasting evidence  _ that he’d been hurt. 

“Baz?” Snow said, the smile fading, “You uh want your chai?” He asked. 

Baz blinked. “Yes,” he answered; and then it slipped out, “What the hell happened to your face?” 

Snow sighed a little, ringing it up on the register before reaching for a cup. “Later, okay?” He said and then paused in writing Baz’s name, glancing at him quickly, “I mean – if you – are you sticking around for a little bit?” He asked and quickly turned his attention back to making the chai. 

Baz watched him for a moment. There was bruising around his neck too, faint, but not hard to spot. Behind him the bell chimed as someone else walked in. 

“Yeah, I’m staying,” he said, taking the cup as Simon slid it over, “To finish the tea.” 

Snow nodded, mouth quirked upwards a little. “Okay, I’ll text you when I’m on break – you know what time that is, right?” he said, his tone light, teasing. 

“Piss off,” Baz snapped, taking the cup and putting a bill down on the counter.

(fuck)

(he  _ did  _ know what time that was) 

He found an empty seat at one of the tables near the back wall and positioned himself so he could watch Snow without being too obvious about it. Then he pulled out the book he had brought with him.

About thirty minutes in, he admitted to himself that he was not reading. He was too fixated on Simon’s movements behind the counter, on the way he sometimes rubbed a hand over his shorn hair, the way he paused with his head down occasionally, the way he fumbled with cups and seemed to lose his breath when he had to fill too many orders at once. 

It was a problem; and Baz was so focused on figuring out what he was going to  _ do  _ about it that he completely missed Simon moving out from behind the counter. 

Snow slid into the seat across from him, his back to the shop, his gaze on Baz. “You look upset,” he said matter-a-factly.

Baz blinked out of his daze. “Excuse me?” 

“You have an – upset look,” Snow repeated, lifting a hand and motioning to Baz’s face, “On your face.” 

“You have a raw meat look on your face,” Baz snapped back. 

And the muppet  _ shrugged  _ at him. “It’s not  _ that  _ bad,” he defended. “You can barely see it anymore.” 

“I can see it just fine.” 

“No, I mean it’s not… you know,” he motioned to his own face then, making a rising gesture, “Big.” 

Swollen, Baz thought, that’s what he meant. “It’s big enough,” he said and frowned, studying him for another beat. “Here,” he said, reaching a hand out, “ **Good as ** – ”

Simon reared back from him so fast he almost tipped back in the chair, eyes widening, “No don’t, don’t – ”

And Baz’s frown deepened. “No one’s looking.” 

“You can’t – they’ll notice. At the Home and it – I don’t want to have to answer questions or whatever about it. It’s fine,” Snow said on a rush, “It doesn’t hurt. Seriously. Looks worse than it is.” 

Baz doubted that. “And your throat?” 

“It got rough,” he said after a beat of silence. 

“Of course it did. I’m sure you’re all feral,” Baz said dismissively and glared, “I could heal it.” 

“But people’d find it weird and then I’d have to talk about it and it’d just – ” he gave a small shake of his head, “I don’t need it healed. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Fine,” he said flatly. “It’s not like it isn’t an improvement on your face anyway. Distracts from everything else.” 

Snow rolled his eyes. He was smiling a little again. “Whatever, Pitch.” 

Baz rolled his eyes back at him. “Where’s my donut?” 

“Shit. I forgot,” he said, smile dropping from his face. “What about – do you want a cookie? I totally forgot, it’s been crazy, and I didn’t get here early, I’m not even sure there were any actually when I got in, but – ”

“Snow.” Baz cut it. “It’s fine. It’s – ” he licked his lips, staring a little at how flustered Snow looked suddenly, almost – alarmed. “Not a big deal.”

“I forgot,” he said again, then added more softly, “Sorry. I’ll remember next time.” 

“Okay,” Baz said without heat. “Next time.” 

Snow swallowed hard, nodding jerkily. “It’s been busy all day…” he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the tabletop.

“Is this what you do on break?” Baz asked after a beat. 

“Yeah...it’s nice to just sit around for a few minutes,” he said quietly, “Sometimes I ask for pictures of pets,” he added with a little smile, glancing up to Baz’s face. 

“I don’t have any new ones, Fiona doesn’t have pets,” Baz told him. 

Snow sighed. “Then I don’t feel so bad about not saving you a donut.” 

Baz rolled his eyes. “Shut up. ” 

Snow smiled, leaning his elbow on the table and his cheek into his hand. He’d sat like that at the chip shop too. He sat like that in the Watford dining hall too.

“Did you get something to eat? If it’s been so busy…”

“Not yet.” 

“We can do that after then,” Baz said, looking back at his book.

“Do what? After what?”

Baz kept his gaze on the page in front of him, even if he wasn’t seeing the words. “After this, get something to eat.” 

There was silence for a beat and Baz  _ refused  _ to look up. He turned the page. The book could be upside down for all he knew at this point. 

“Okay, yeah… we can do that,” Snow said after a beat, his voice quiet. “We’re closing soon and then I just have to help clean up.” 

“I don’t need a play-by-play, Snow,” Baz said in a bored tone. “Just let me know when we can leave.” 

Snow huffed a little laugh and Baz lifted his gaze without lifting his head, just to glance at him, just a quick look and – 

Snow had slid from leaning his cheek against his palm to leaning his temple against it, his eyes downcast, half-lidded. He looked about a minute from falling asleep and it tugged at Baz hard. 

– he wished he hadn’t. He swallowed hard. “Hey…” he said before he could stop himself, “You’re not off the clock yet.” 

Snow smiled a little, rousing just barely, “I know,” he murmured. “Four minutes of break left though.” 

Behind them, the store was emptying out a bit. It was almost eight o’clock and those that hadn’t left yet were at least packing up their things. 

“You have plans for those four minutes?” Baz asked, lifting his head. 

“Not fall asleep,” Snow said with a little smile, “Not get up. Not read a book. Not – ”

“Not be annoying?” Baz cut in, “Too late.” 

Another soft laugh. “Too late,” he agreed. “What’d you do today?” 

“Finished deep cleaning Fiona’s flat,” Baz told him, “She’s worse than you. I found a dirty bra under the fridge.” 

Snow wrinkled his nose. “I bet she loved that.” 

Right. Because Fiona was supposed to know that Baz was at her flat. “She should  _ thank  _ me,” he retorted. 

“You found a worse roommate than me,” Snow added, smiling a little. Then he took a slow, deep breath and straightened up (slow, he was moving so slowly). “Okay, I better get back – you want another tea?” 

Baz tried not to frown. “No.” 

“Okay,” he said simply, getting to his feet. He hesitated for a beat, looking at Baz like he was about to say something else, but then just ducked his head a little and rubbed a hand over his hair. “See you…” 

Baz bowed his head over his book in response. He waited until he could see Snow out of the corner of his eye again, back behind the counter, before he breathed out and let himself turn a few pages back in the book. 

He would eventually want to read it after all. 

  
  


**.tbc.**


End file.
